


Lose Your Soul

by AvengingSherlocksAssbutt



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awesome Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes-centric, F/M, Past Riley/Sam Wilson, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Sam Wilson, Protective Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson-centric, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Steve Rogers-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:05:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 28,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2224980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvengingSherlocksAssbutt/pseuds/AvengingSherlocksAssbutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn't take long for Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson to realise that Bucky's recovery is going to be a long and arduous progress - one that's hindered by the constant nightmares that wake him up in the middle of the night and set him off into torrid streams of Russian. So when Bucky starts babbling about a 'doctor' after a particularly bad panic attack, Sam and Steve decide to track her down. </p><p>But Dr Charlie King has problems of her own. Mainly staying alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

****

**1977**  
  
"Mission report."  
  
The Soldier hung his head, his breathing laboured, as three technicians worked on his metal arm and one doctor saw to the bullet lodged deep in his flesh and blood shoulder. The order was repeated from across the room, and the Soldier's fists clenched in his lap.   
  
"Now!" The voice barked, and slowly, he raised his head.   
  
"Mission completed. Target terminated. One excess casualty."  
  
"Who?"  
  
The Soldier's attention had already wavered. His head hung low again, his chin almost touching his chest as he struggled to maintain conciousness. Alexander Pierce stepped out from the shadows and crossed the room to him. "Look up."  
  
Wearily, the Soldier obeyed, and the doctor removing the bullet flinched as the sound of palm hitting cheek reverberated around the small room. When he glanced to his right he saw the Soldier's head had snapped to one side, blood rising in his left cheek as his blue eyes stared into middle distance. For a few painfully long seconds everyone in the room froze, waiting for the Soldier's reaction. The doctor waited, keeping pressure on the bullet wound as the Soldier focused on it. He watched as the Soldier looked up, until he was meeting the doctor's gaze.   
  
No one had time to react as the Winter Soldier ripped his left arm from the technicians and grabbed the doctor by the throat. He was thrown several feet across the room, skidded on his back for another two feet, and then came to a stunned stop. The Soldier rose to his feet and stalked across the room towards the doctor, who could only look up in silent fear as the taller man approached.   
  
The technicians watched in horror as the Soldier crouched by the doctor and closed his hands around the man's throat, but Pierce simply watched with mild fascination, giving a slight shake of the head to the two guards who made to move towards the Soldier. Finally, the doctor stopped struggling and the Soldier could stand up and move away from the body, back to his seat. Pierce watched him move, his eyes narrowing as he considered his options.   
  
The Soldier was a valuable asset, and one that Hydra (and he) would need in the future. But there was something very wrong with him. He seemed more emotional than normal. He was reacting emotionally. He killed the doctor because of what? Fear? Pierce assumed it was fear. Which meant that he was having doubts about where he was, and who he was surrounded by. Which made him volatile and dangerous. He needed to be fixed.  
  
"Wipe him." He ordered. One of the technicians looked up timidly.   
  
"We can't wipe him, sir. We wiped him a few weeks ago."  
  
Pierce's eyes narrowed again, watching the Soldier, who stared straight back with blank, unassuming eyes. "Do it anyway."   
  
"Be careful, Pierce." An older man stepped into the room. "You wind a clock too far and it breaks."  
  
Pierce straightened up. "Good thing the Soldier's a weapon and not a clock then."  
  
The older man chuckled. "Of course. Either way, we need to make sure he'd fit for missions. With all of this wiping, we need to keep his psychiatric health in check. I want you to put someone on him."  
  
"Of course, sir." Behind them, the machines began to whir, signalling the procedure was about to begin. The Soldier tensed in the chair. He didn't know what was happening to him, but for some reason he had an instinctive fear of the noise. The headset came down around him, and then he was screaming, bucking in the chair as white hot pain shot through his skull. His perception on reality was slipping and blurring as he squeezed his eyes shut, and the faint image of the young boy with the blond hair who was staring up at him began to fade.   
  
"Now, Alexander." The older man put his arm around Pierce's shoulders. "Let's talk about S.H.I.E.L.D."  
  
The two men left the room, while the Soldier's screams of pain echoed around the walls. The three technicians exchanged uncomfortable glances. 


	2. Spilt Coffee

** **

**2014**  
  
Steve cast the bathroom door a concerned glance as he passed it. Bucky had been in the shower for a good thirty minutes, which was unlike him. Steve could still hear running water, but Bucky was normally the person in the apartment who showered fastest.   
  
"Morning." He said as he joined Sam in the kitchen. His friend frowned.   
  
"You alright?"  
  
"Yeah. It's just..." Steve shook his head a little. "Being paranoid. Never mind."  
  
Sam raised an eyebrow. "What's up?"  
  
"Bucky's been in the shower for a while, that's all."  
  
Sam didn't seem too concerned, so Steve decided to drop the issue. He couldn't help but worry, however. Last night he could have sworn he'd heard Bucky's voice. It hadn't been as loud as some other nights - there were some nights Steve woke to terrified screams, only to find Bucky tangled in his sheets or struggling to find some kind of weapon. There were some nights Steve couldn't leave him alone, and Sam would find the two of them curled up at opposite ends of the couch, sharing a blanket. Although there had been no screams, Steve was almost certain Bucky had had another nightmare.   
  
He sighed and poured himself a cup of coffee. It had been almost two years since the incident at the Triskelon, and a year since he and Sam had found Bucky and brought him to Steve's apartment. At first it had been like a nightmare. Bucky refused to sleep or eat, and whenever he went to try and get some sleep Steve would find him with his back against the far wall with a knife in one hand. Slowly, he'd gotten better. He began eating and talking, even cracking the occasional joke. He showered daily, grateful for the ability to get clean and stay clean - it was a luxury he hadn't ever been provided before. The nightmares even became more infrequent.   
  
But they were still there, lurking in the back of his mind. It was obvious from the way he never woke in a good mood, and always slunk off to bed silently, never looking comfortable when he began to feel tired.   
  
"You going to drink that?"  
  
Bucky's voice right behind him made Steve jump, almost spilling the drink. He turned. "When'd you get out of the shower?"  
  
"A couple of minutes ago." He'd pulled on a gray Henley and dark jeans, and had slicked his hair back. "You alright?"  
  
"Fine. You?"  
  
Bucky shrugged, and for a moment the kitchen fell into awkward silence. Sam looked between the two of them, spooning cornflakes into his mouth as he waited for one of them to break the quiet. Finally, Bucky reached past Steve to grab the coffee pot and pour himself a cup. Steve continued to watch him.   
  
"Did you have a nightmare last night?"  
  
"Steve, come on -" Bucky started to protest, but the taller blond cut him off.   
  
"No, Buck. Did you have one?"  
  
"For fucks sake." Bucky slammed his mug down on the side with more force than he needed. Hot coffee sloshed out of the sides, spilling over his left metal hand. Hissing, he jerked it away, and reached for a cloth to wipe it up. "Do we need to have this talk?"  
  
"Are you still having nightmares?" Steve saw his friend scowl. "Then yes, we do."  
  
"I'm having nightmares, Steve." He threw the cloth into the sink, where it landed with an unpleasant  _smack_. "People get nightmares."  
  
"Not like you do." Steve said earnestly. "Buck -"  
  
"I'm fine, Steve." Bucky pushed past his friend and out of the kitchen, leaving the other two men in silence again, the last traces of his spilt coffee dripping from the counter to the white tiles.   
  
  
  
  
"Afternoon, Charlie."  
  
"Hey Felipe. How's Gina?"   
  
"She's good, thanks. Four months along now."   
  
The two began to peel off their coats and hang them up. Felipe grinned across to Charlie. "I'm taking a week off on Friday. We're going back to L.A to see my folks."  
  
"That's good. It's been a while, hasn't it?"  
  
Felipe nodded as the two left the staff room and made their way to the lab. "It'll be a relief, after all these night shifts."  
  
"You've got that right." The two entered the lab, and Felipe dropped into his seat at his station. "Oh, by the way, did you get those reports? I should have sent them over."  
  
"I'll check." Charlie dropped into her own seat and started up her computer, settling back and looking out across the other stations. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Barney, who was grinning at her over his monitor. Carol was on the other side of him, already tapping away on her computer. Felipe was organising his desk, and probably choosing where to put his baby scan. A message popped up on her monitor. Barney's IM nickname was the same as the one he'd put into her phone when she'd started working at IG Corp and gotten her colleagues' numbers.   
  
 **Ready for a night shift? ;) - Dinosaur**  
  
She smiled and rolled her eyes, responding quickly before checking for Felipe's reports.  **Nope. You? - Charles**  
  
Always. - Dinosaur  
  
Well, that makes one of us. Charlie paused, and decided to use the IM for its intended purpose, now that she had Barney's attention.  **Do you have those reports? I've got Carol's, and Felipe just sent me his. - Charles**  
  
 **Not yet. What are you doing on Thursday morning? - Dinosaur**  
  
Getting out of work and having a shower and sleeping. Why? And I need those reports ASAP, Barn - Charles  
  
Sure. How about grabbing breakfast? - Dinosaur  
  
Is this a Psycho-researcher's way of asking me out on a date? ;) - Charles  
  
Why not? I like your dress by the way. - Dinosaur  
  
 **You can't have it. Get me those reports and I'll go to breakfast with you - Charles**  
  
She heard him laugh gently at his station and returned to her work, smiling as she closed the IM popup box before standing up to get to the coffee machine.   
  
It was going to be a long night. 


	3. Share a Nightmare

** **

 

 **So what are you going to get when we have breakfast? - Dinosaur**  
  
Charlie rolled her eyes as the message popped up on her monitor. It was nearly midnight on Wednesday evening, meaning she only had six more hours of this persistent messaging. Across the room from her, Barney shot her a grin. She smiled back shyly, before telling him she was going to have waffles.   
  
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she pressed enter. It was only breakfast. It wasn't like he was asking her to marry him and move in and share life stories. Thank God it wasn't that.   
  
Charlie's eyes drifted to the scar on the back of her hand. The thin white line that ran from the valley between her index and middle knuckles to the centre of her hand. She closed it into a fist and hit enter, wriggling her fingers and so she could watch the scar move.   
  
That scar was (thankfully) the only mark she bore from her time at Hydra, and her experiences with the Winter Soldier. With everything that had happened there, she was lucky she hadn't come out seriously disfigured, or worse,  _dead_. The whole time she'd been at Hydra she'd lived with the niggling fear that one day Pierce would tell her that her services were no longer required, and turn the Soldier on her during one of their sessions. Ever since the crisis at the Triskelon she'd escaped from Hydra, disappearing along with most of the scientists, but only after checking that  _no the Soldier wasn't coming back in_.   
  
Charlie realised she had no idea what had happened to the Soldier since she'd left, and with a pang of guilt thought back to their last meeting. He'd been so compliant and passive with her, more so than most of the meetings they'd had over the four years she'd worked for Hydra.   
  
 _"Who are you?" He croaked as she crouched beside him, taking his pulse. It was erratic, which she decided was quite a good way to describe the Soldier himself. She undid the Velcro strap from around his arm and unwound it, dropping it onto the table beside them before moving to check his temperature.  
  
"My name is Doctor King. I'm here to make sure you're fit for your mission." She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead, and felt her eyebrows raise. He didn't have a temperature - if anything he seemed a little cool - but when her hand met his skin his eyes slipped closed. Tentatively, she flipped her hand so her palm was against his forehead, and was surprised when he moved into the touch, pressing his forehead into her palm a little more, and tilting his head so that he was nosing at her hand, almost like he was nuzzling it.   
  
For a few seconds she was completely still, watching as the Soldier tipped his head back down, so that her fingers were resting in his hair. Slowly, she ran them through the dark locks, before pulling away. He looked confused - his blue eyes widened  and his mouth hung open a little. Why was he looking at her like that?  
  
"Have we met before?" He asked quietly, and for a moment Charlie forgot that he was supposed to be an assassin. She forgot that he was the Ghost story that plagued the intelligence community. Because right now, for the next thirty minutes, just like in every session, he was scared, and innocent. And he was hers.   
  
But she still stuck to Hydra's lie. "No. This is the first time. How are you feeling?"  
  
"My head hurts." He touched two fingers to his forehead, close to the temple, and Charlie had to control the urge to place a kiss there. During every meeting with the Soldier after he'd been wipe Charlie had the almost uncontrollable desire to mother him. She wanted to hold him and stroke back his hair and tell him he was going to be alright.   
  
"I can get you something for that. Any nausea? Dizziness? Visions? Memories of anything?"  
  
"No." God, those big blue eyes would be the death of her. "Should there be?"  
  
"No."  
  
There was a pause while he stared into middle distance. "Doctor?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
She smiled sadly, sliding her fingers back into the oddly soft hair. "Where you belong. I'll go get you something for your head now."  
  
His eyes had slipped closed at her touch, and when she spoke he nodded. "Okay."  
  
She stood up and left the room, almost walking into Pierce as she did. "Sir!"  
  
"Doctor King. How is he?"  
  
"He's got a headache, but other than that I think he's fit to be briefed. No memory of Rogers."  
  
"Good. This is an important assignment for us all. We need him to be healthy."  
  
"I'm sure he'll perform fine. Do you need me to brief him?"  
  
"Yes. He's headed to the Triskelon. We think Rogers and Romnoff might be headed there."  
  
"Of course, Sir."  
  
She watched as Pierce left, and felt the same pang in her chest that she normally did before things like this. They were going to take her Soldier and make him back into the killing machine Hydra needed. _  
  
Another IM alert shook her out of the memory.  **Hey, do you have the revised notes on that Georgia case? - Flippy**  
  
She glanced over to Felipe's desk. He was watching her, waiting for the reply. She sent the file across, and he gave her a thumbs up before returning to work. She couldn't. Not now that she was thinking about the Soldier.   
  
She wondered if he remembered her.   
  
  
  
  
Sam woke up to Bucky's screams. He was almost thankful for the rude awakening - he'd dreamt of Riley again. The memory of his best friend, his wingman, dying was bad enough, but Sam kept replaying it over and over, each time feeling more guilty that all he'd been able to do was yell  _Riley_  and watch.   
  
He didn't have time to think about that now though. Bucky's terrified screams had been joined by Steve yelling over him, trying to calm him down. When Sam got into Bucky's room he found the two of them together on the floor, with Bucky rocking back and forth, his breath coming out in short, panicked gasps and Steve crouched beside him, trying to calm him down.   
  
It took both their efforts (and two complaints from the neighbours), but finally Bucky was coherent. Still hugging his knees to his chest, and not quite breathing properly, he started talking.   
  
"Doc... Doctor... Doc?" He stared up at Steve, eyes clouding with confusion. Over his head, the other two men exchanged worried glances.   
  
"Bucky, we aren't doctors." Steve soothed.   
  
"Doc?" Bucky gripped Steve's forearms desperately. "Where is she? Why isn't she here? She's  _always here_. Doc... Where's the Doc? Steve...  _Where's the Doc_?"


	4. PTSD Bullshit

 

"Charlie?"  
  
Charlie blinked twice, drawing her eyes away from the menu to Barney, who was smiling gently, a trace of concern on his face. "You okay? You look a little out of it."  
  
She smiled shakily. "I'm fine, Barney. Just tired."  
  
"Tell me about it." He leaned back in his seat, pushing long blond hair out of his eyes and watching her. For a guy that had night shifts in a Psycho-research lab and barley got time off he looked pretty good. The circles under his eyes and the faint trace of stubble along his jaw were the only give-aways that he was tired. She, on the other had, had practically black circles under her eyes - a mixture of exhaustion, bad genetics, and where her makeup had smudged.  
  
"So I finished off those reports on the Georgia case..." She began, but Barney cut her off.   
  
"How about we don't talk about work, hm?" His eyes crinkled up at the corners and he pulled out a pair of glasses from his bag. "Why don't we get to know each other a little bit? For example - I have the world's shittiest eyesight. You?"  
  
He settled the glasses on his nose, and it was like a switch had gone off in Charlie's mind - suddenly Barney looked about forty times more attractive, which wasn't fair at all on his part.   
  
"My eyesight's pretty good." She joked, fiddling with the glass in front of her nervously. "But for the record you look totally cute with those on."  
  
He chuckled again. "Guess I'll wear these more often then."  
  
"Guess you'll have to."  
  
"So tell me about yourself, Charlie. Seriously, you've been working in the same place as me for a year now, and I don't know anything about you." Barney leaned forwards, grinning. Charlie swallowed hard, keeping her eyes trained on the table between them. Perhaps this date hadn't been the best idea. What was she supposed to tell him? The truth? That she used to work for a secret Nazi Organisation, but don't worry she wasn't  _actually_ a Neo-Nazi?  
  
"Not a lot to tell you, really." She pushed her milkshake around on the table, "I've just been interested in Psychiatry for my whole life, and this research job seemed like a good idea."  
  
"Still seeming like a good idea?" Barney sipped his own milkshake, and she nodded, giving it a shot. She was on this date, why not act like she was.   
  
"Well, it's not so bad. Can't think of any other job where I've been asked out to breakfast by the cute research scientist in my office." She teased, relaxing a little when he laughed.   
  
"You're too kind, 'Charles'."   
  
  
  
"So who the hell is this doctor?" Sam asked. It was just after six AM, and Bucky was finally curled up on the couch asleep, quiet snuffling noises coming from his mouth every few minutes. Steve was sat opposite the couch, his head in his hands.   
  
"I don't know."  
  
"I've been looking through the Hydra files, you know, the ones Nat leaked? And I've found six female scientists who are still alive who worked close to the Winter Soldier. When he wakes up we can show him the pictures, see if he recognises them."  
  
Steve nodded, his eyebrows knitted together as he stared at his sleeping friend. "I thought we were fixing him. I thought he was getting better."  
  
Sam could have sworn he heard the Soldier's voice crack when he spoke. "He is. Think about what he was like when he first came back here. We never would have gotten him back to sleep, but now... Steve, it's a matter of trust to begin with. And then you move on to the other part. That's the part that's going to be a little harder to control."  
  
Steve nodded, clearly not entirely convinced, still staring at Bucky's sleeping form. Sam decided to leave the two of them - there wasn't much more they could do until Bucky woke up - and went back to his room to try and get some sleep.   
  
The second he flopped onto his bed and closed his eyes he wished he hadn't. He could hear Riley's screams of terror, seconds before he realised he was about to die. He could see Riley's eyes, wide with shock. He could feel the wind against his face, and the heat baring down on him as he tried to reach his friend. And then, he could smell it.   
  
It was something no human being should ever have to get used to. The smell of death. Once you'd smelt it, it haunted you forever. It seeped into everything, your dreams, your soaps, even the expensive aftershaves. There had been a while after Sam had arrived home where he'd been able to feel nothing but the presence of death around him.   
  
He jerked out of his half-sleep, gritting his teeth and shaking his head violently. There was a reason he'd gone through the PTSD course. There was a reason he gave talks about moving on and packing up grief. It was supposed to be able to help him as well as the other people he talked to.   
  
It was bullshit, Sam decided. It was bullshit that he stood up and told veterans that it would get better if you found a way to carry your grief. It was bullshit that he sat in front of Bucky day after day and told him that he'd stop dreaming of Hydra, and of torture, and of the people he'd killed. It was bullshit that every morning he lied to himself and told himself that he was fine. It was all bullshit.   
  
A knock at the door broke him from his sombre self-absorption, and Steve poked his head into the room. "He's awake. Do you want to show him the scientists?"  
  
"Sure thing." Sam stood up, following Steve into the front room, where Bucky was sat, his eyes unfocused on the middle distance. Sam pulled out his laptop and dropped onto the sofa beside him, pulling the first file. "Are any of these the doctor you were thinking of last night?"  
  
He started to scroll through them.   
  
"No, no, no, no - wait." Bucky's eyes narrowed as Sam scrolled past Charlotte King. "Her. Bring up her file."  
  
"Charlotte King?"  
  
Bucky nodded, studying the picture for a few moments more. "That's her. She was my pysch doctor. Saw me before every assignment and after every wiping."  
  
"So what, she's the one who geared you up for combat?" Steve asked coldly, not bothering to keep the malice from his tone. Sam couldn't honestly blame him. If he was in Steve's position, and Riley had been in Bucky's -  
  
He stopped himself, tuning back into the conversation just in time to hear Bucky defend the doctor. "No, no she wasn't like that. She was different. She acted differently to me than the others. Nicer. She never yelled or hit me, or  -"  
  
He trailed off, his eyes focusing on the picture once more. "How do we find her?"  
  
"It shouldn't be too hard, if Hydra hasn't gotten to her already. I took a look at a couple of these scientists - it looks like Hydra's trying to wipe them out, one by one."  
  
"Why?" Steve asked.   
  
"They're trying to eliminate loose threads. She was involved with me - she could tell the press everything she knows." Bucky paused, looking momentarily confused. "I don't know why she hasn't, actually."  
  
"Well, I know one thing for sure." Steve cracked his knuckles, frowning at Sam's laptop. "We've got to find her. and soon."


	5. Hunted and Found

** **

 

 **Tell Barney to stop looking at you because he needs to do some fucking work - Flippy**  
  
Charlie looked up at her computer screen as she heard the sound of an IM message being delivered. She couldn't help but laugh when she read Felipe's message, and when she looked up, she could see Barney wasn't exactly concentrating on his work. Felipe wasn't either, but for an entirely different reason. He was scowling at the long blond hair, every so often looking to Charlie and shooting her a  _do something_  look.   
  
 **Concentrate. - Charles**  
  
 ** **You're distracting. - Dinosaur**  
  
 **I don't care. Felipe is going to kill you if you don't start now. - Charles**  
  
 **Whoops - Dinosaur****  
  
  
She rolled her eyes and started working again, smiling a little. If she was honest, she liked the attention. She liked the thought of someone paying attention to her. She hadn't felt affection from anyone in over six years, unless the Soldier was counted. But he didn't count, because for those four years she'd worked with him, she'd had to keep things strictly professional. Occasionally he would grab at her hand in confusion, or murmur something that sounded like a compliment, but other than that, they rarely stretched further than Doctor and Patient.   
  
With Barney it was different. She didn't have to be afraid of the consequences. She didn't have to worry that at any moment he would snap and kill her. He was like the Soldier after a wiping, but all the time. With the soft blond hair and the charming, boyish smile that he obviously hadn't managed to shed through puberty, he reminded her of a Golden Retriever puppy. He was simple. He was Barney. There was none of the confusion or pain that she'd felt whenever she looked at the Soldier. She didn't have the urge to protect Barney, or defend him. She didn't feel guilty whenever she looked at him. And he never had to look at her like she was the only thing making sense to him.  
  
That was what she'd hated about the Soldier. She didn't want to be someone he felt he could depend on, even for those thirty minute sessions together. She hated the feeling of responsibility - what if she let him down? At least with Barney she didn't have to feel responsible for him.   
  
As she worked, she heard one of the lab technicians wander in, and the door close behind them with a click. They were probably delivering another case file. She kept her head down, ignoring the next message from Barney.   
  
Thirty seconds later, she wished she hadn't.   
  
Gunfire exploded across the room, and with a scream she dropped behind her desk. There was a moment of silence, punctuated only by slow, self assured footsteps.   
  
Charlie trembled below her desk, letting her head fall back against the cold metal as nausea swept over her. She knew what this was. She knew  _exactly_  what this was. They'd found her. Hydra were cutting off all the loose threads, so that no-one could pull on them and unravel the whole jumper.   
  
 _Stop with the analogy_. Charlie told herself, opening her eyes as the footsteps continued, and another bullet was fired.  _You have to move, now._  
  
Slowly, she raised her head just above the desk to see what was happening. He was stood over one of the intern's desks, evaluating the body. Realising that it wasn't who he was looking for, he moved to the next desk, firing once again. The sound of the bullet cracking through the air shocked Charlie into moving. She crawled around the side of her desk so she was under a spare one, looking over to see Felipe doing exactly the same thing, clutching some crumpled paper in one hand.   
  
When he raised his head to look at her, she could see the tear tracks that stained his skin.   
  
  
  
"You're sure this is the right office?" Bucky asked, peering up at the building. IG Corps were a biological and psychological research company, who mainly dealt with shell shocked victims and people suffered with PTSD. They were trying to improve the drugs used to help victims, but progress was slow.   
  
"Perfectly sure. Got the information from Stark." Sam assured him, glancing at him in the rear view mirror. Bucky nodded, tapping his hands on his knee.   
  
"So what are we doing here, waiting for her to come out of work and then grab her?" He asked. There was no verbal reply, but he took the sudden definition of Steve's jaw as he clenched it to mean yes.   
  
Sam was about to put the radio on for some form of entertainment on their stakeout when alarms started inside the building. All three men froze for a few seconds in shock. Bucky was the first to react, reaching forwards to the glove compartment and pulling out the pistol they'd stowed there.   
  
"It's them. It's Hydra." He grunted, checking the magazine. "They've found her."  
  
  
  
Charlie kept moving, weaving her way past spare desks until she was in the corner, opposite Carol, who didn't seem to notice she was there. Her eyes were closed and she was knelt with her hands clutching at the cross around her neck, her lips moving in silent prayer.   
  
 _That's not going to help you now._ Charlie wanted to tell her, but instead, as she heard the footsteps getting closer, she shifted out of the hollow of the desk so that she was behind it. If anyone crouched down to look if she was hiding underneath the desk, they wouldn't see her.   
  
The footsteps continued to advance, and Charlie closed her eyes, shaking as Carol's silent prayers developed into terrified whimpers. There was a scream which turned into a sob, one gunshot, and then silence. Charlie stuffed her hand into her mouth to stifle the scream that threatened to give her away, biting into the flesh so hard that she was drawing blood. She squeezed her eyes shut, holding her breath for a painfully long ten counts before pulling her hand away from her mouth, smearing the blood and exhaling.   
  
She checked to see where the assassin had moved, and made the mistake of crawling out right opposite Carol's body. She froze for a few moments, staring at the lifeless body, watching as the blood pooled around her co-worker's head.   
  
Dumbly, Charlie realised that someone had set off the alarm in the building. That did absolutely nothing to calm her nerves.   
  
Someone, presumably one of the other interns who was still alive, made a break for the door, screaming and banging at the glass. The assassin moved quickly, and Charlie used the distraction to keep moving across the room.   
  
"Charlie."  
  
The voice was barely above a whisper, but as she crawled towards the cupboard, she heard her name and turned. Barney was crouched under a desk. The two of them paused in the silence, staring at each other in silent horror when they heard another gunshot.   
  
Doing the maths in her head, Charlie realised with a sickening sweep of nausea that Felipe was dead.   
  
  
  
Bucky paused down the corridor. "Did you hear that?"  
  
Sam shook his head. "I can't hear anything over this alarm."  
  
"No, he's right. That was a gunshot." Steve pointed to the left. "It came from over there."  
  
  
  
She crawled into the desk, hugging her knees to her chest and staring at Barney. They were the only two people, other than the assassin, who were left alive in the room. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she rocked back and forth. She didn't want to die like this. Not like this, being picked off  by an assassin while she cowered in fear. Not after her friends had all been executed.   
  
The footsteps were faint at the other end of the room as the assassin checked the desks methodically. Barney motioned to her to get her attention, whispering so quietly she had to strain to hear him.   
  
"I think there's a back door out of the lab. If we run now we can make it."  
  
She didn't trust herself to speak, instead shaking her head violently. The door would be locked. He would have seen to it that it was locked before he came in. All ways in or out of the room were sealed off. They were trapped in here. They were going to die in here.   
  
For a few seconds the two of them crouched in silence, with Barney trying to plead with her. Charlie counted a full thirty seconds before Barney whispered "I'm so sorry." And made a break for the lab.   
  
He barely made it ten feet before he was shot in the back, hitting the floor with a very resounding thud. Her rocking became more violent as she pressed her forehead into her knees, trying to stop the sobs that threatened to wrack her body.   
  
The footsteps moved closer, still with that same slow, confident gait. Terror took over, and Charlie scrambled out from behind the desk, crawling out in between a few of the desks to get closer to the door of the lab. After a few seconds of waiting, she ran.  
It didn’t take long – maybe ten seconds – for the assassin to fire. Burning white pain shot through her right arm, and she dropped, rolling to the floor and grabbing at the now bleeding wound.  
The assassin approached slowly, gun aloft.  
   
   
“What the hell are you doing?” Steve snapped, watching as Bucky pushed the grate of the air vent away and hauled himself up. He didn’t get a reply, but when they heard another gunshot Bucky began moving faster, scrambling up into the airvent and crawling through.  
   
   
Charlie tried to move away from the assassin, pushing herself backwards on her one good arm, but she knew it was no use. They paused to reload, and she squeezed both eyes shut, whimpering pitifully, waiting for the inevitable.  
This would have been the end for her back in Hydra anyway. With the Winter Soldier missing in action, they would have found no use for her services. In fact they probably would have blamed her for the fault in their glorious weapon. It was her job to make sure he didn’t  _feel_  anything. And she’d failed.  
  
And now she was going to die.  
  
The assassin paused, confused, as a scraping and bumping could be heard from overhead. Another bump and a crash later, and Bucky landed gracefully in the room between Charlie and her would be killer.  
  
Taking the distraction, she crawled behind a desk off to her right, hugging her arm as she rocked back and forth, tears rolling freely down her cheeks past her closed eyes. This was what she’d been afraid of. This was what she’d been trying to avoid. She didn’t want to get close to people so they wouldn’t get hurt, and now all of her friends were dead.  
  
There was another gunshot that she barely registered, and then someone was calling to her, gently shaking her.  
  
“Doc, can you hear me?”  
  
She shook her head, refusing to look at her saviour.  
  
But…  
  
She recognised that voice.  
  
“Doc?”  
  
Slowly, she opened her eyes. He was blurred because of her tears, but it was the Winter Soldier. Fear clogged up her throat, and she tried to move away (to no avail). “No, please. Please don’t. Please…”  
  
“Doc, I’m not going to hurt you.” Bucky promised. “But I have to get you out of here. Hydra sent him, and they’re going to send more people after you. Do you understand me? Doc? Can you hear me?”  
  
Charlie moaned, pitching forwards towards Bucky’s chest. He grabbed hold of her to steady her, and put one arm around her waist, hauling her to her feet so she could walk with him. The body of the assassin lay sprawled out in the middle of the floor, just underneath the grate Bucky had hopped through. He led her down the gangway between desks, and past another body.  
  
“Don’t look.” He ordered, but a mixture of morbid fascination and guilt got the better of her. As Bucky led her through the room, she glanced down, and wished she hadn’t.  
  
Barney was on the floor, his glasses smashed from where he’d fallen, bits of broken glass and metal cutting into his handsome features. His light blond hair fanned out around his face like some kind of morbid halo, marred with dark blood which was starting to congeal.  
  
Bucky tugged her sharply upright as she started to lean heavily away from him and towards the body they’d passed. “I said don’t look.”  
  
She couldn’t even apologise. She didn’t know what was happening to her. All she knew was that she could smell blood, and she could feel something wet on her fingers.  
  
Bucky continued to move her, until they passed another body. Charlie realised with a jolt that it was Felipe, who was propped up against his desk, his head tipping to one side, blood seeping down the bridge of his nose from the hole in his skull. She looked down to see what he’d been clasping in his hand when she’d last seen him, and felt another sweep of nausea. The baby scan, which he’d gotten not that long ago, was crumpled up in his right fist.  
  
She couldn’t help herself, she pitched forwards, surprising Bucky, and threw up. He grabbed her around the waist with both hands in an attempt to steady her, and stepped back a little while she continued to retch in his arms. When she was done, she leaned back against him, her legs barely supporting her.  
  
She only just managed to register what was going on around her as the Soldier walked her through her old office. When she realised she was passing her desk, she struggled to push out of the circle of his arms. He obliged, allowing her to stumble to her desk. She wanted to see the last message she’d received before all hell had broken loose. She wanted to read the last thing Barney had sent to her before he’d died.  
 ****  
Get down. He’s got a gun. - Dinosaur


	6. Panic and Perfume

"Is that Bucky?"  
  
Steve looked around at the sound of Sam's voice. His friend was peering through the glass hatch on the locked lab door, and when he moved a little Steve could see Bucky supporting a woman, who was pale and shaking. "That must be Doctor King."  
  
He had to admit that from here she didn't look like a Hydra agent. Not from the way she was clinging to Bucky like her life depended on it. Not from the wide eyed terror that was written across her face as they passed a body. Not from the way her legs kept giving out, or the tear tracks that stained her cheeks.   
  
Nonetheless, she'd been involved with the Winter Soldier. She had at some point been an affiliate of Hydra, and if what Bucky remembered was accurate, then she'd been one of the people closest to him. She could have helped him, but instead she'd simply filed her reports and kitted him up for assignments. That, in Steve's mind, made her almost as bad as Rumlow or Pierce.   
  
"That's Bucky." He said grimly.   
  
  
  
"You still with me, Doc?"  
  
Charlie couldn't even nod at the sound of the Soldier's voice. She simply clung to his toned waist, turning her head from the bodies of her colleagues. She knew that if she looked, if she saw any more blood, then she'd throw up again. Or faint. Neither was a particularly appealing option in her current state.   
  
They moved towards the door, and as Bucky reached out for it she vaguely recalled someone trying to open it before. "He locked it. You can't open it."  
  
There was a small 'humph', and the Soldier reached out his left hand. His fingers closed around the lock, and he tugged, pulling the lock system all the way off. After a moment's  consideration he tossed it behind them. Charlie heard it clatter to the floor, and then the door was open, and she was out.   
  
"Take her." Bucky thrust her into Sam's arms, and handed Steve the gun he'd taken from the Hydra asset. Thank God he no longer had to associate the word 'asset' with himself.   
  
Sam supported Charlie as she fell into him, holding her in much the same way Bucky had done. "Can you walk?"  
  
She turned her head up to him, barely even seeming to note the fact that he was there. He could see the weariness in her face - one of the after-effects of adrenaline pumping through her system; he could see the resounding fear from her attack, but there was also grief. She had the expression of someone who'd just watched people she cared about die. Sam knew the look; he'd seen it in the mirror for months after Riley had died.   
  
Her knees buckled, and she sank backwards into Sam, who caught her easily, hoisting her up bridal style. He and Steve followed Bucky, who was moving almost in a crouch, his muscles bunched up under his dark clothes as he stalked down the corridor, every so often pausing to listen out for footsteps.   
  
They managed to leave the facility without a problem (Bucky had taken care of the security guards on the way in) and across the parking lot before they heard the gunshot. Steve dropped into a crouch, taking the safety off his gun while Bucky dove behind a car to get cover while he found the shooter. Sam swore loudly, swinging around to stand behind a van with Charlie, who'd started whimpering and shaking as soon as the gun had gone off, still in his arms.   
  
He froze behind the car, trying to listen out, not daring to peek around the van in case the shooter tried to take his head off. That was when he realised how badly Charlie was shaking in his arms.   
  
"Hey, hey." He whispered, shifting her in his arms so she was a little closer to his chest. "Can you hear me? Doctor King? You need to be quiet. Can you do that?"  
  
She simply buried her face into his t-shirt, shaking uncontrollably. That was when Sam felt something warm and wet seep through the fabric of his clothes.  
  
She was bleeding.   
  
"Fuck." He hissed, finally daring to peek around the van. Bucky had come out from behind the car he'd been hiding behind, but he wasn't the only one. The shooter had dropped down into the parking lot, and the two were circling each other, all their muscles tensed as they evaluated each other silently.   
  
Bucky was the first to move, jabbing at the other man, who dodged the attack by feinting left and slamming into Bucky's right side. There was a hiss of pain and then Bucky was moving again, and the two of them were attacking each other, each movement just as lethal as the one before it.   
  
Sam took the opportunity to move around the van to their car, where Steve was stood waiting. "You got her?"  
  
"I've got her, but I think she's bleeding."  
  
Charlie moaned in response, and concern flitted across Steve's features for a second, before his expression hardened once more. "The medical supplies are in the trunk. I'm going to help Bucky, and see if there are any other Hydra Agents on the way."  
  
He left, and Sam managed to slide Charlie (with some difficulty) into the back seat. "Doc? Look at me?"  
  
She tipped her head to one side, opening her eyes and staring up at him. It seemed like she was seeing him for the first time. Her eyes widened and her lips parted. "Who..."  
  
"My name's Sam Wilson. You've been shot in the right arm. I'm going to clean you up, but I need you to stay with me, okay?"  
  
She simply stared at him, her breathing ragged and tense. She was trying to move, trying to speak, but nothing was coming out. Her head was spinning and her chest felt heavy, and when she tried to breathe she realised she couldn't. Her hand shot out to grab Sam's, and she squeezed it tightly as bright spots began to cloud her vision. He grabbed both her shoulders as she started to lean forwards.   
  
Sam could read the signs of a panic attack like he was reading the football scores. He grabbed both her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "Charlie? Can you hear me?"  
  
She nodded, shaking. "Good. Okay, I need you to tell me your name. I don't want you to go into shock. Do you know what's happening to you?"  
  
The answer came so quietly and abruptly that he barely heard it. "Panic attack."  
  
"Good, okay. What's your name?"  
  
"Charlie. King."  
  
"Okay, good. How old are you?"  
  
As she struggled with the answer he grabbed the medical kit from the trunk. "26."  
  
"Alright, Charlie." Sam opened up the kit, resting it on her lap. "I'm going to need you to take off your sweater so I can look at this arm.  Are you okay with that?"  
  
She nodded, and as he reached to help her she murmured something else, her breathing starting to deepen and slow. Praying that the attack was almost over, Sam leaned in. "What was that?"  
  
"Tucked in to my... My skirt."  
  
It took a couple of minuted of struggling, but Sam managed to get it over her head and toss it into the back seat with her. The wound itself wasn't particularly deep - the bullet had simply glanced off her skin - but it had been bleeding unattended for a while, and her whole right arm was stained with red.   
  
"Okay, this is going to hurt a little."  
  
  
  
"Got him?" Steve asked, moving back to the spot in the parking lot where Bucky was stood. The Hydra Agent was laying at his feet, his head almost at a right angle to his body. Bucky nodded silently, tucking the gun into the back of his jeans and turning to Steve.   
  
"Where's the Doc?"  
  
"Sam's got her. He think's she's bleeding, and she doesn't look great." Bucky made to move, but Steve swung out an arm to stop him. "I think that's the shock and not the wound."  
  
"She'll be alright?"  
  
"Should be." Steve watched his friend. "So what was she like, in Hydra?"  
  
Bucky thought about it for a second. "Different. Like I said, nicer."  
  
  
 _Bucky was back in the chair, straining through the darkness. Was he being punished? The man in the suit hadn't looked happy when he'd left a few minutes before. What had he done wrong though? He couldn't remember doing anything wrong. He couldn't remember anything in fact._  
  
"Hello, Soldier."  
  
He looked up again at the sound of the voice. It was softer than the man's voice. Sweeter. Higher. His eyes narrowed as a woman stepped into the room. Her dark hair was pinned back from her face, and judging by the white coat that hung loosely off her shoulders, she was another scientist. Bucky's head still ached from the wiping, and he knew that when the white coats came in the pain from the headset would follow not long after. Was the pain going to come again?  
  
He strained against the bonds on the chair, his breathing quickening a little as she took a seat opposite him. "Are you going to do it to me again?"  
  
"Do what?" A line appeared between her eyebrows, and she looked genuinely confused.   
  
"The headset. Are you going to put it on me again?"  
  
"Of course I won't." She paused, eyeing him up. "You don't look comfortable. Is something wrong?"  
  
"The headset -"  
  
"I won't put it on you again. I promise." She leaned a little closer, and Bucky caught a whiff of something elegant and intoxicating that made his throbbing head spin.   
  
"What's that smell?" He asked, and she jerked back self consciously. "No, it smells nice."  
  
"That's my perfume. And my soap."  
  
Bucky frowned. His soap didn't smell that good. His soap was scratchy and smelt like chemicals. It was harsh and had made his eyes sting when he'd showered half an hour before, just after the headset had come off. His hair was still dripping.   
  
"Do you like it?" She held her wrist towards his nose, and he could smell her again. He nodded, and she gave a closed lip smile, dimples appearing in her cheeks. "I've got to ask you a few questions. Is that okay?"  
  
Bucky sat back in the chair, water rolling down his chest from where it dripped out of his long hair. No one had asked his opinion before. He wet his lips and nodded, giving the response that came easily, almost like an instinct. "Yes."  
  
  
"Buck?"  
  
Bucky was brought back to reality by Steve's voice. His friend was making to move back to the car. "Come on, we should move."  
  
They left the mangled body of the Hydra Agent in the middle of the parking lot. 


	7. Bravery

Sam was wiping the dried blood off Charlie's arm when Steve and Bucky approached. He balled up the cloth and dropped it into the medical kit, zipping it up and passing it to Steve so he could put it back into the trunk. As he did, he glanced over to Bucky, who was staring at the doctor with an unreadable expression.   
  
"She'll be fine." Sam assured him. "Just shell shocked. And she needs something to wear - her sweater's soaked with blood."  
  
"My sweater's in here." Steve called, closing the trunk and walking back around to the back seat, where he passed one of his pullovers to Charlie. He pushed the item into her hands, frowning as she clutched at it but made no move to put it on. "Doctor?"  
  
Her eyes flickered up to his face. She drowsily took in his features, the broad expanse of his shoulders, the blond hair. When she spoke, her voice was oddly calm. "I think I want to go home, Captain."  
  
"You can get home just as soon as you put the sweater on." Sam assured her. With an uncertain glance at the three of them, she pulled it over her head and slipped her arms through the sleeves. After checking with Sam that she'd be alright, Steve moved back around to the Driver's seat, while Bucky dropped into shotgun.   
  
For the whole car journey Charlie sat up straight, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes unfocused, staring into the headrest of the seat in front of her. Sam kept his eyes on her, checking that she wasn't going to pass out or throw up again. He did notice, however, that every time she inhaled her hands clenched a little in her lap. "Are you okay?"  
  
 She didn't look at him. "Chest hurts. I need my inhaler."  
  
"Your... Inhaler?" Steve echoed, glancing at Bucky in the front.   
  
"It should be in the front pocket of my..." She paused, realising the problem. "Purse..."  
  
Bucky swore loudly.   
  
"Where are your spares?" Steve asked calmly. He knew that shouting would only exacerbate the problem, especially after what she'd just been through.   
  
"My apartment." Charlie winced, gripping at the front of the gray pullover. "Speed up."  
  
  
  
  
"Where are they, Charlie?" Sam asked, flinching as Bucky broke the door open. The emergency alarm automatically sounded, and Bucky quickly moved to stop it.   
  
"Code?"  
  
She listed off the numbers and leaned heavily against Sam while they stepped into the apartment. Steve flicked on the light and glanced around. It wasn't a particularly big home, but it was enough for one person to live comfortably. The kindest way to describe it would be an organised chaos. A quick glance into the kitchen showed she was actually pretty neat, but her coffee table was a mess of books, sheets of paper and last week's news. Steve took her arm and guided her to the couch. "Charlie? Where are the spare inhalers?"  
  
"I uh..." Her hands were shaking in her lap, and Steve could see her lips were starting to get paler. The wheezing that had started in the elevator had gotten worse. "Bathroom?"  
  
Sam and Bucky disappeared, and Steve took both of her hands in his, for the first time looking genuinely concerned. "You're doing very well, Charlie. I just need you to hold out a little longer, okay? You're being really brave."  
  
He kept repeating it over and over, reaching out with one hand and rubbing circles between her shoulder blades, trying to soothe her.   
  
She knew she wasn't being brave. Being brave would have been stepping out from behind her desk after she'd heard the first bullet and saving her friends. If she'd done that there would have been at least a chance that Felipe and Carol and Barney would have survived. There would have been a chance that Felipe could see his child being born. There would have been a chance that Carol could have gotten married. Charlie realised with a sickening sinking feeling that she'd seen the engagement ring multiple times on her friend's finger but had never really talked to her about it.   
  
Barney.   
  
Charlie closed her eyes. She didn't want to think about Barney's big eyes, or his grin, or the laugh, or the way he constantly messed up his long hair. She'd been so stupid to even imagine, for a  _second_ , that she could live a normal life after Hydra. Get a normal job. Get a normal boyfriend.   
  
"I'm not." She croaked, sounding more lucid than she'd done since she'd stepped into work hours before. Steve frowned.   
  
"What?"  
  
"I said I'm not brave." She repeated to her lap.  
  
"Got them." Sam called, coming back into the living room and interrupting them. "Three spare inhalers, plus a brown one."  
  
Steve surprised him by taking all four from his hands, dropping three on the couch beside Charlie, and shaking the fourth for her. "Okay Charlie."  
  
He took the cap off and eased it between her lips, pressing down on the pump. She breathed in and closed her eyes for a few seconds, relishing the ability to breathe properly again. She nodded, and Steve pressed the pump down again.   
  
"Thank you." She croaked, taking the inhaler and cap from him and putting it with the others. "For saving me, as well. I thought I was going to die."  
  
Steve paused for a couple more moments beside her, checking that her breathing was returning to normal. When he was sure that she wasn't going to die he stood up and stepped away from her, his expression hard once more. "Those were Hydra Agents that came after you."  
  
"Steve, don't do this now." Sam said gently. Charlie shook her head.   
  
"No, it's fine. He's right; what happened in there is my fault."  
  
"You're damn right it is." Steve snapped.   
  
"Steve!"  
  
Charlie and Steve watched each other coldly as they fell into silence. Now that she could breathe normally, Charlie's composure was coming back to her. "How bad was your Asthma, Captain?"  
  
Steve blinked. "What?"  
  
"The way you looked at me." She paused to catch her breath, staring up at him with startlingly green eyes. "You've had Asthma, haven't you?"  
  
"When I was a kid. The serum got rid of that. But I expect you'd know all about that, wouldn't you,  _Doctor_?"  
  
"Steve..." Sam warned. "Ease up."  
  
"She's Hydra!" He spat, his blue eyes flashing.   
  
"She's sick." Bucky said sharply from the doorway. He dropped the large rucksack that he'd stuffed full of Charlie's clothes on the floor and eyed up his friend. Steve's features were twisted into an uncharacteristic scowl that didn't suit him. "Look at her and tell me she doesn't look sick. She's pale, she's shivering... She just saw her co-workers being murdered, she doesn't need you to interrogate her."  
  
"She's a Hydra Agent. She worked for Pierce."  
  
"No she didn't." Bucky snapped, moving to the couch. "She wasn't a 'Hydra Agent'. She was a Doctor who monitored me. So do what Sam said and ease up. We need her help, and we aren't going to get it by scaring her. That's what  _they_  do."  
  
Steve exhaled deeply. He wasn't going to apologise - they all knew he wasn't going to - but he nodded, and his features softened. After a moment of silence he turned and left the living room, presumably going to wait for them in the car.   
  
"Is there anything you're particularly attached to? Anything you need?" Bucky asked, throwing the bag to Sam over the couch.   
  
"My laptop. A few photos. Why?"  
  
"Get them, and get your coat." Bucky ordered. "You can't stay here any more." 

  
  
  
  



	8. Nightmares and Coffee

Steve woke up to someone crying.   
  
For a few seconds he was confused - he wasn't in bed in his room and the crying seemed almost feminine. It took a few moments for the nights events to sink in, and he remembered Charlie.   
  
"Dr King?" He called softly, feeling a little guilty about how he'd acted in her apartment. Through the drive from her place to the trashed motel they'd decided to stay at he'd driven silently, checking her in the rear view mirror every so often. She'd gone back to staring blankly in front of her.   
  
The crying stopped, and Steve threw the blanket off himself, padding across the room to stand by her bed, passing Bucky on the way. The assassin had forced Charlie into one bed, pushed Sam towards the other and made Steve sleep on the couch. He'd curled up at the foot of Charlie's bed, using her duffel bag as a makeshift pillow.   
  
"Dr King." Steve crouched by the bed, peering more closely at Charlie, who'd pulled the covers up to cover her nose. "Are you alright?"  
  
She didn't answer, instead she simply stared at him in silence for a few moments before rolling over, tugging the covers up even further. Steve sighed, murmured a quick goodnight and went back to the couch. The sobs didn't start again, but he could have sworn her shoulders were shaking under the covers after only a few seconds.   
  
  
  
The next morning the three men woke to find her bed empty. Sam swore loudly and Bucky practically ripped the door off its hinges in his haste to get outside. Steve simply sat on the couch with his chin in his hands, staring at the covers. She'd fallen asleep the night before in her pencil skirt and Steve's large jumper, rejecting anyone's claim that she'd be more comfortable in just the jumper. The jumper, the skirt and the doctor were all gone now, and she hadn't left a note.   
  
"She's not in the fucking parking lot." Bucky snarled, coming back into the room and scowling at the bed as if it could give him answers. "Where's she gone?  _How_  could she have gone? It's not like she even fucking knows where we are in the city. Fucking hell, if Hydra find her -"  
  
"They aren't going to find her." Sam soothed. "Calm down."  
  
Bucky aimed a kick at the couch as he passed it before throwing himself down on the bed to scowl into middle distance. It wasn't long before Charlie appeared in the room, put out to see them all awake and waiting for her. Bucky nearly jumped up to yell at her, but she cut across in a soft voice before he could.   
  
"I got coffee." She held out the Styrofoam holder lamely. "As a thank you?"  
  
Bucky stared across the room at her blankly for a few seconds, taking in her meek expression; the way her lips were pursed into a sheepish half smile; the line that had appeared between her eyebrows; the almost limp way she was offering her coffee to them. He chuckled in spite of himself, surprising Steve. Soon, his chuckle had developed into a harsh bark of laughter, making Charlie visibly uncomfortable.   
  
She was so  _normal_. Bucky sighed, his laughter dying down. He shook his head at her, the last traces of a smile still visible on his lips before stepping forward to accept the cup. It was cheap and weak and there was a distinct lack of sugar, but he drank it all nonetheless. "Thank you Charlie."  
  
She looked a little more relaxed as she passed the cups around, but Bucky noticed how she refused to meet Steve's gaze as she handed hers to him. He raised an eyebrow to his friend as they sipped the coffee, but Steve didn't respond.   
  
"I didn't know how you took it." She said apologetically, handing Sam his cup. He took it anyway, smiling.   
  
"Doesn't matter. Thanks, Charlie."  
  
She turned away from him to throw the holder in the bin, before turning back to the three of them. "Sorry for going off on my own."  
  
"Don't do it again." Steve murmured, frowning. "We've got to keep an eye out for Hydra Agents from now on out, okay?"  
  
She nodded.   
  
"You got a cell phone?" Bucky asked. Charlie nodded, going to her duffel. She'd dropped her personal cell in there before they'd left her apartment the night before. After she pulled it out Bucky snatched it from her and crushed it in his metal hand.   
  
"You no longer have a cell phone. You don't have a home address. You got facebook? Disable it. I want you completely untraceable before we leave this motel. And that means you'll need new clothes. Your ones are too noticeable. You need to be invisible now, Charlie, and clothes like that around where we're going will stick out. Sam will take you to get hair dye and glasses, and he'll find an internet cafe for you both. I'll work on an I.D Card, and Steve'll check the news to see what the authorities have on you." His expression softened when he saw her eyes widen. "You alright?"  
  
"It's just a lot to take in."  
  
He nodded. "Just go with Sam. He knows what to do."


	9. Do Not Go Gentle into the Good Night

"Is it down?" Sam reappeared beside Charlie with the second round of coffees. She nodded, closing the last tab.   
  
"Yeah, I took it down. I guess it wasn't the brightest idea having the account in the first place. Too easy to track. I just..." She waved her hands aimlessly, gesturing to the now blank screen. "Wanted to feel normal I suppose."  
  
"That isn't a crime."  
  
She shrugged. "What's next on the list?"  
  
"Shopping. You're going to need to dye your hair, cut it, grab some glasses - how do you feel about a fringe?"  
  
"Not great. I guess it can't be helped though, right? And new clothes?"  
  
"It's jeans and t-shirts from here on out, I'm afraid." They stood up and made their way out of the internet cafe. Overnight they'd driven to the outskirts of the city, and the surroundings were unfamiliar to her. Although she did have to admit she was getting some odd looks from people on the street. The only things Bucky had snatched out of her wardrobe that hadn't been for work had been the sweats and pullover that she wore to bed in winter, so she was dressed in another pencil skirt and a pink blouse. Next to Sam, who was in jeans and a baggy t-shirt she felt severely overdressed.  
  
  
  
"What colour do you think I should go?" Charlie brushed her fingers along the boxes of dye, frowning. She'd never dyed her hair before, unless you counted the one time in high school she'd thought it would have been cool to put a blonde streak in (it hadn't.) Her trailing fingertips stopped on an ombre box.   
  
"Nothing fancy. Black?" Sam tapped his foot, eyeing up the shelves uncomfortably. In his opinion they'd spent far too long buying clothes. He would have much rather gone with the other two making fake passports and ID cards.    
  
Charlie was about to reply when the shop assistant for the drug store walked over. "Having trouble choosing?"  
  
Sam looked up from the box of auburn dye he was looking at, narrowing his eyes as the shop assistant neared Charlie. "We're fine, thanks. Baby, why don't you just grab the ones you were looking at before?"  
  
He shot Charlie a pointed look, and she nodded, moving so she was a little behind him to grab a couple of boxes of dye. The assistant smiled again, her eyes flickering between Sam and Charlie for a couple of seconds. The three of them were silent, with Charlie holding her breath and gripping the box so hard she thought she'd break it and Sam balling his fists so tightly the knuckles went almost white.   
  
"Never mind." The assistant said coolly, brushing past them down the isle. Instinctively, Charlie moved closer to Sam.   
  
"Do you think-?"  
  
"Yes. Grab the dye and let's get out of here. We have to  _pay_  for it, Charlie." He grabbed her wrist and swung her round in the direction of the checkout as she made for the door. "Calm down, okay? You're gonna draw attention."  
  
She nodded, looking out of the corner of her eye to the assistant, who was talking to two men across the shop. " _Sam_."  
  
He followed her gaze, froze for a second, and then led her swiftly out of the shop with their purchase. "Don't look back."  
  
  
  
A few hours later the three of them were sat in the motel room discussing the next course of action. Bucky and Sam decided to grab some food while Charlie stayed to dye her hair. Steve would keep watch. They all agreed that leaving her alone, or allowing her to go anywhere on her own would be a stupid mistake. She was going to be accompanied everywhere.  
  
"When we get back this whole room is packed up, okay?" Bucky said as he and Sam left. "Because when we get back, we head out."  
  
Charlie had decided to cut her hair before dying it, so grabbed the scissors they'd picked up in town and went to the bathroom while Steve packed. He moved around the room, grabbing rubbish and the odd item of clothing. Charlie's pencil skirt from the night before was still lying in a pile by her bed, but he noticed his jumper had already been neatly folded on the bed. Picking it up gingerly he slipped it into the duffel with the rest of the clothes, before dropping down to sit on the bed and wait.   
  
He notice that she'd left the door ajar when she'd gone to do her hair. Now he could see her reflection through the gap. Her long brown hair was falling clump by clump to the floor where she was chopping her way to a chin length bob. He could see the concentration on her face as she tried to even out the sides, meticulously snipping away odd strands. After a few more minutes she was done, and looking mildly pleased with the result, she opened the box of dye.   
  
She pulled the shirt she'd bought earlier off, standing instead in a vest and jeans. Looking a little uncertain at first, she began to apply the dye, covering her hair until it was lathered up. Steve saw her wincing as she tried to get the back covered, and stood up instinctively to help, but stopped himself before she got to the door.   
  
She finished applying the dye and pulled off the plastic gloves, throwing them into the bin with distaste and dropping to sit on the edge of the bath. He decided to go in, knocking first.   
  
"Come in." She sounded tired.   
  
"Want some company?" He asked, poking his head inside. She smiled wearily up at him, slouched over her own knees, her chin on her hands.   
  
"Go ahead."  
  
He perched on the edge of the tub next to her, taking the time to check out her arm, which was still bandaged. The wound must have opened up again as she'd been working, because he could see the blood seeping through the cloth. "How's the arm?"  
  
"It's fine."  
  
"How are  _you_?"  
  
"I'm fine." She wasn't looking at him, instead favouring a spot a few feet ahead of them. He decided against trying to make small talk, so they sat in silence for a few minutes before she broke it. "I wanted to help him."  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Bucky. I wanted to help him." Her eyes finally flickered across to him. "I wanted to save him Steve. I hated what they did to him. I hated what they made him."  
  
"It wasn't your fault Charlie. They were right last night. I shouldn't have snapped at you, and I'm sorry."  
  
"You're right to blame me. I should have done more to help him. I should have found someone, talked to someone..."  
  
"Charlie." He cut across her softly. "Stop."  
  
She fell silent, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning on them. "Why are they following us?"  
  
"They want you. And they want Bucky. Sam and I are helping you, so they want us too."  
  
She inhaled deeply. "So, we're all four of us screwed then."  
  
He chuckled. "I guess."  
  
She shook her head and checked her watch. "Time's up on the dye. You want to help me get it out?"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
  
  
  
Warm water washed over Charlie's head as she bent over the tub. Steve was stood behind her, his body radiating an intense heat across her back as he leaned over her. One of his large hands was on the back of her head, his fingers winding through her hair and helping to rinse out the dye. The other was holding the shower head above her, slowly moving it around, directing the jet of spray around her scalp. From time to time he'd miss and a few drops of water would roll down her spine, following the line of a tattoo he hadn't noticed before. As he washed her hair, he tried to read it.   
  
 _Do not go gentle into that good nigh-_  From there, the poem was cut off by her vest top. Steve was intrigued. "Nice tattoo."  
  
"Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light." She recited. "It's from a poem by Dylan Thomas."  
  
"What's the poem about?"  
  
She chuckled. "It's about trying to not give up life and die quietly, but to try to fight to stay alive."  
  
"Apt." Steve turned off the water and handed her a towel. She straightened up, towelling the ends dry.   
  
"Tell me about it."


	10. Did You Get Nightmares?

Sam had fallen asleep in the back almost immediately after they got into the car. Bucky had held out for half an hour after that, and Charlie had been oddly quiet since they'd set out. Steve wasn't sure whether or not she was asleep, but the drive had become more than a little boring, with only the low hum of the radio for any form of company.   
  
He glanced over to where she was curled up in shotgun, her back to him and her head tucked into the hood of the parka they'd picked up. He wondered what she was dreaming about. Was there family? Friends? A boyfriend?  
  
He sighed, rubbing a hand across his face wearily and resting one elbow on the door.   
  
"You're tired."  
  
He glanced over to Charlie, who was staring back across at him, still curled up in her seat. Her dark hair curled up below her chin, the shorter bangs at the front framing her eyes, casting them into deep shadows. She looked exhausted herself. "I'm fine."  
  
"You want some company?" She uncurled herself and strapped up her seat belt, running her fingers through the curls. He shrugged.   
  
"Sure."  
  
They fell into silence for a few moments before she spoke again. "He had the dumbest screen name."  
  
Steve looked over to her. She was staring at the road ahead, her eyes blank and unfocused. "Sorry?"  
  
"Barney." The corner of her mouth twitched fondly, but then she swallowed hard and pursed her lips into a thin line. "On the group chat server we had in the office."  
  
"He an old boyfriend?"  
  
"Something like that."  
  
"What was his screen name?"   
  
"Dinosaur. Like the TV show? Barney the purple dinosaur." She swallowed again. "And Felipe's was 'Flippy'. That's the only way Barney could say his name when he got drunk at the Christmas party."  
  
Steve watched her, his eyes flicking back to the road every so often. Her hands were folded down on her lap and her eyes were focused on them. A curtain of short black hair shrouded her face so he couldn't see her expression, but he could almost picture it. "You can't blame yourself for what happened to them."  
  
"Really?" Steve heard her voice crack, and damn near pulled up by the side of the highway right there and then. "Can't I?"  
  
"Charlie..."  
  
"I shouldn't have gone there. I shouldn't have... Felipe was going to have a  _kid_." She finally looked up at him, and Steve wished she hadn't. Her eyes were wide and brimming with tears, and when she blinked they spilled over, rolling down her cheeks and dripping onto her t-shirt.   
  
"You don't have to keep talking if you don't want to. It's none of my business."  
  
"Why do you want to know?" She asked, her voice soft. "Why not about the four years at Hydra? I'm assuming James didn't want to tell you anything."  
  
Steve didn't answer. "He prefers Bucky."  
  
"I'd prefer to call him James."   
  
Steve shot her a quizzical look across the car, and she shrugged. "I called him 'Soldier' for four years. It's nice to finally give him a proper name. I don't know, it makes him seem more... Human." Seeing Steve's jaw tighten she hurried to correct herself. "I mean, not that he wasnt human before, but now it's just -"  
  
"In Hydra he was just an asset, right? No name, no identity. A ghost story."  
  
Charlie nodded, choosing her words carefully. "I think it was easier to make him a nightmare. We're all afraid of the unknown, right?"  
  
Steve's thoughts drifted away from Charlie. Away from the road. They drifted back to the Howling Commandos. Every raid they'd made, every life they'd taken, it had all been foreign and new and completely terrifying. Looking for Bucky in the Hydra base; fighting Zola; destroying the Tessarect (or so he'd thought). All of it unknown and alien to him. But of course, none of that could compare to waking up alone.  
  
"So what are you afraid of, Steve?" Charlie asked, her voice soft. He glanced across to see her staring at him, her expression unreadable.   
  
"You should get some sleep, it's been a long couple of days." He looked away back to the road, but when he turned back to look at her again she hadn't moved. "Charlie?"  
  
"Did you get nightmares about him?"  
  
"Bucky?"  
  
"When you first woke up. Did you blame yourself?"  
  
"What happened to them wasn't your fault, Charlie." Steve felt like he was repeating himself.  
  
"If I hadn't taken that job would they still be alive?"  
  
"Yes," he admitted. "But -"  
  
"They were good people." Her voice cracked. "I might as well have pulled the trigger myself."  
  
There was a long silence between the two, but curiosity got the better of him. "Why'd you take the job at Hydra?"  
  
She didn't answer. Instead she clenched her jaw, pulled her hood up and curled up in her seat, murmuring a quiet 'goodnight'.  
  
Steve sighed, his eyes returning to the dark road ahead. In the back seat, Sam stirred in his sleep. 


	11. Charlie

_"Tell me your name." The Soldier croaked, staring up at Charlie through thick eyelashes. She took her seat opposite him and smoothed her hair back._  
  
"Doctor King. Don't you remember me telling you that last night?" She frowned. Last night she'd been brought to the room with the Soldier in a hurry. They'd wiped him again. She'd been angry - four months of work - the longest uninterrupted period they'd had together without the interruption of wiping - was gone. She'd yelled at Rumlow as he'd taken her back to her cell-like room. He'd thrown her inside, raised his fist and hit her so hard her head had snapped to one side. The cut from the ring on his middle finger had formed a scab on her cheekbone, which she'd tried to cover over by wearing her hair down.   
  
The Soldier was frowning, his lower lip sticking out slightly. Slowly, he reached out his left hand, the metal fingers glinting from the overhead light. Charlie recoiled instinctively, and his brows furrowed even more. "They hurt you."  
  
She realised he'd seen the cut, and leaned forwards once more. His fingers brushed against her skin, cool against the flush of her cheeks. The breath caught in her throat as the fingers continued to experimentally travel across the right side of her face and as the Soldier's head tilted to one side, evaluating her reaction. He repeated his statement, obviously expecting some kind of clarification.   
  
"I'm fine." She lied, touching the hand on her face gently and moving it away. It dropped back onto his lap, resting against the flesh and blood hand which looked almost purple. She reached out for it, confused, but he pulled it away from her. "Show me your hand."  
  
He ignored her. "Tell me your name."  
  
"Doctor -"  
  
"Your first name." His voice was oddly soft.   
  
She licked her lips, knowing full well that if this got back to Pierce he'd have the Soldier shoot her. "Charlie."  
  
"Charlie." He repeated it slowly, elongating the vowels as if he was trying to savour it. "Charlie."  
  
"King." There was a sharp knock at the door which startled them both.   
  
"What is it?" She called.   
  
"Rumlow says your time's up."  
  
She stood up instantly, surprising the Soldier, who stared up at her with those big blue eyes that were too open and childlike to belong to a killer, his mouth hanging slightly open. "You're leaving?"  
  
She nodded, and he stood too. It was the first time she'd ever seen him on his feet, and she wasn't entirely surprised to see that he towered over her. "Can you do something for me?"  
  
"Yes, Charlie?" He seemed to enjoy saying her name. She could have sworn the corners of his lips tipped up a little when he said it.   
  
"Don't tell anyone you know my name, okay?" Her voice came out in a low, conspiratorial whisper. "It'll be our little secret."  
  
He nodded, glaring at the door when there was another knock. "When will you come back?"  
  
"Hopefully tomorrow night. You should get back in the chair."  
  
He did as he was told, settling back into it and watching her leave through hooded eyes. Her long brown hair swayed down her back as she walked to the door and opened it, slipping out quietly, casting him a small smile before she disappeared.   
  
  
She didn't see him for another three days. When she walked into the room the manilla file was on the table next to his chair. He was strapped down, much like he was when he was being wiped. As she got closer she could make out the dark bruising around his eyes and cheeks that marred the pale skin, dried blood visible just below his nose. Swallowing hard, she took her seat opposite him and reached for the file. "Good evening."  
  
She swore her heart nearly broke when she heard him croak, "Tell me your name." In that same broken voice as before. Inhaling deeply to steady herself, she opened the file.   
  
 **He is our asset. Remember that, Charlie.**  
  
The note was posted on the inside cover of the file in Pierce's cursive, and when Charlie read it, she felt sick to her stomach.   
  
  
James was watching as she did the crossword in the car. He and Sam had gone to get groceries and fill the car up with gas while she and Steve had stayed inside the car. The three men had agreed that until they managed to teach her some sort of self defence she wasn't allowed to go anywhere alone.   
  
She was curled up in the back seat with an old newspaper Steve had grabbed her, a look of intense concentration on her face as she scribbled the answers in. Her black hair was pulled back into the smallest ponytail possible, shorter strands from the front falling out of it and feathering out to the sides of her face.   
  
"Dude?"  
  
James jumped at the sound of Sam's voice beside him. The other man was stood with two bags of groceries, a grin on his face. "Tank's full, man. You can take it out now."  
  
James realised he still had the pump in the car. Giving a rueful grin, he pulled it out and replaced the cap, pulling his credit card out of the machine.


	12. Safety Off

"No way."  
  
"Bucky, she's the least conspicuous -"  
  
"She's not going anywhere on her own, Steve."  
  
"I don't like it either. But we don't have a choice. Neither of us can go there, and we need Sam to be in the bank to withdraw the money as soon as it comes through. She has to go there alone."  
  
"We're not doing it!" James snapped.  
  
They'd pulled up into another motel room for the night, where Steve had explained his idea for acquiring money. The other two hadn't exactly liked the idea, and James had wasted no time in vocalising his opinion.   
  
"Can I make a point?" Charlie said quietly, making all three men jump. They hadn't realised she'd come out of the shower.   
  
"Of course you can, Charlie." Sam said, shooting pointed glares at James and Steve, before flashing her a welcoming smile.   
  
"You need me to go to Stark's place, right?"  
  
"Right." Steve said quickly, before James could interject.   
  
"So I go to the Stark tower, get him to wire money into an account and give me a credit card. Then Sam's standing by in a bank, I send him some sort of message, and he withdraws the money, and then we get back to you two, right?"  
  
"That's the idea."  
  
"That shouldn't be too difficult. As long as I stay out of the way of too many security cameras, wear a baseball cap and the glasses you got me I should be alright, shouldn't I? How hard can it be?"  
  
"Famous last words." James grunted. She smiled gently and moved past him to grab a pair of socks from her bag. As she passed Steve he glanced at her back. She was wearing a dark blue camisole and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, so he could make out the top of her tattoo. For some reason the brief glimpse of it made him smile.   
  
"Charlie, you've got to understand that there are gonna be Hydra agents all over the place looking for you. You don't have to do this if you don't want to." Sam explained gently. She shook her head.   
  
"I want to, Sam."  
  
The three men exchanged worried glances, but after of moments of exchanged scowls between Steve and James, they agreed to let her go, under the agreement that she had a cheap phone on her so they could instruct her, and, on James' insistence, a gun.   
  
"Come here." He grunted, beckoning her over with the Desert Eagle. "You see this button here on the grip? That's the eject. You push it -" he demonstrated. "And the magazine comes out. If you run out of ammo, press the button, throw the old magazine, push the next one in until it clicks. If you have to disarm someone, either take their gun and run with it, or take it apart. Remove the magazine, and take out the bullet in the chamber."  
  
Charlie was nodding along as he spoke, eyeing the handgun wearily. "How do I do that?"  
  
"Turn the safety off here. Hold the gun in one hand, slide the chamber back like this." He pulled it back to reveal the bullet still in there. "Tip the gun out and then throw it away. If the gun he's got looks like this one, then take the magazine with you."  
  
"This is all assuming one of them gets close to you." Sam cut in, shooting James a 'cool it' glare. "Which is highly unlikely."  
  
Charlie took the gun from James' hand and hefted it in her own. He had to appreciate, seeing her holding it, that she wasn't exactly assassin material. Whereas he could pick up a gun and seamlessly use it with no confusion, she had a hard time even managing to close her fingers around the grip. The gun dwarfed her, and he felt something aching in his chest. He didn't want her to go out to the Stark Tower alone.   
  
"You okay with that?"  
  
She nodded, still staring at the weapon in her hand, which Sam gently eased away from her, before passing it to James. "Yeah, I've got it. So, when do you want me to head out?"


	13. Familiar Scars

The phone Steve had bought her half an hour before buzzed in Charlie's pocket. She reached into her pocket, fingers brushing against the gun James had pushed into her hand earlier that morning with an instruction to shoot first and ask questions later if she thought she was being followed. "James?"  
  
"There are Hydra agents in the street."  
  
Charlie slowed, her eyes flitting through the crowds of people. She was outside one of the many Starbucks in New York on her way to the Stark Tower.   
  
"Don't slow down or stop. Keep walking at a regular pace." He instructed calmly.   
  
"Where are you?"  
  
  
  
James took a seat inside the Hydra surveillance van he and Steve had broken into while Steve pushed the bodies to the side. He brought up the camera view with Charlie on and leaned back, checking for more agents. "We're inside a Hydra surveillance van. You're alright; there aren't any on your street. Just keep walking, okay?"  
  
After a couple of seconds she began moving through the crowd again, blending into the masses of people on either side with relative ease. Steve took a seat beside James, joining him to look for Hydra Agents while James assured Charlie he'd call again if he saw something. They sat in silence for a few minutes.   
  
"What was she like in Hydra?"  
  
James glanced across to his blond friend and shrugged. "I've already told you."  
  
"Did she ever tell you why she started working there?"  
  
He frowned. "Not that I remember."  
  
  
  
 _'Hello Soldier'  
  
Her voice echoed in his mind that night as he lay in his room, staring up at the ceiling. She'd come to him that morning to talk to him about how he was feeling - his headaches were getting worse and she was growing concerned. It had started out fine.  
  
'Can I take your pulse?'   
  
The Soldier rolled over on the hard mattress, remembering her warm fingers pressing against the smooth skin of his wrist. If he concentrated hard enough he could feel the pressure. He could almost hear her soft voice in his ear as she talked him through what she was doing.   
  
'Are you sleeping well?'  
  
He buried his face into the lumpy pillow, breathing in the old, musty smell and huffing. She'd been wearing those thin reading glasses today. The ones that made her eyes look greener and bigger. The ones that reflected the overhead lights of the room they always met. She'd set them aside on the table when they'd started talking.   
  
'Does your head hurt?'  
  
He moaned into his pillow. He shouldn't have done what he'd done to the doctor. She was nicer than the others. She was the only person in a white coat he liked. And now they weren't going to let him see her again. She was probably scared of him now. She probably wouldn't want to see him. And tomorrow, when they told Pierce, there would be pain. More pain. He winced as he remembered the fists connecting with his ribcage.   
  
'Are you getting nightmares?'  
  
Another anguished moan escaped the Soldier's lips as he thought about the doctor's eyes, how wide they'd grown when he'd pinned her to the wall. The strangled scream that had escaped her lips still rang in his ears as he pressed his hands over them.   
  
"Hey, shut up in there!"  
  
The Soldier sat up, breathing heavily. He rolled off the bed and paced to the end of the room, to the door where his guard was poking his head through. The Soldier's metal fist slammed through the bars, and the fingers closed around the front of the combat suit. He dragged the guard close to him.   
  
"Bring me the doctor." He hissed, pushing the guard away. He watched as the man scrambled down the corridor, and after a moments silence he seemed to calm. He exhaled deeply before moving back to sit on his bed.   
  
Twenty minutes passed before the door slid open. He heard Rumlow tell her she had five minutes, and then they were alone. She stood at the opposite end of the cell to him, her hands clasped in front of her, the bruising from his hands visible against her golden skin. "Good evening."  
  
She was angry. The Soldier could tell, from the clipped nature of her words. But she was also scared. He could hear the slight tremors in her voice. He stood slowly, carefully, making sure not to aggravate his bruised ribs. There was an intake of breath - he saw her hands clench together - and he froze.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
She made no movement to indicate that she'd heard him, so he tried again. "I'm sorry for what I did to you earlier Doctor."  
  
The words tumbled from his mouth, awkward and jumbled and with no pause for breath, the apology foreign on his tongue. He caught himself at the end and stopped, waiting for her response.   
  
"Why did you do it? Where you scared?"  
  
She didn't sound angry any more. If anything, she sounded curious. He nodded.   
  
"You don't have anything to be afraid of, Soldier." She said, her voice returning to the gentle murmur he was used to. "Not from me."  
  
He nodded again. "I understand."  
  
She frowned at that, a line appearing between her eyebrows. She opened her mouth to speak again when the door behind her opened. Rumlow appeared, gun in one hand. His right eye was swollen and bruised from the Soldier's fist earlier, and the side of his face bore the marks of the Soldier's fingernails, where he'd clawed and scratched as he was being held down.   
  
"Time's up." He grunted, tugging the doctor out of the room and slamming the cell shut. The Soldier stripped, folded his clothes and placed them on the chair in the side of the room, and laid down on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling and thinking back to how very wrong the meeting had gone. _  
  
  
  
James swallowed hard. That had been one of the earlier memories of Hydra to come back to him. "There was one time during one of our meetings. I... I don't know what happened to me... I just lost it. I attacked her." He clenched his right fist, his head hanging low as he stared at the desk in front of him. "She looked so shocked, and scared and..." He paused, searching for the right expression that had crossed Charlie's face when he'd grabbed her. "Betrayed. Like I'd turned on her. I think she felt like we were both on the same team. Us against Pierce and Rumlow."  
  
"You attacked her?" Steve's voice was quiet beside him. James nodded, ashamed.   
  
"I was wiped the morning after. Twice. They didn't let me see her for a week."  
  
"Did you ever attack her again?"  
  
"I don't think so." James cleared his throat abruptly, a sign Steve had come to recognise as the end of the conversation. His voice lost its husky tone as he returned his attention to the screen in front of him.   
  
  
  
  
Someone walked into Charlie, knocking her round as she walked through the crowds. She stumbled, and a hand shot out to steady her. She began apologising, but a deeper male voice cut across her. "Don't worry, it's cool, I wasn't looking where I was going. It's fine miss, really."  
  
She swung up her head to apologise again, and froze. She recognised that face. She recognised the scar that ran from his jawline to the corner of his mouth. Brennan, one of the Hydra Agents who'd been in charge of ferrying her between her room, the Soldier and Pierce's office. She thought he'd died when some of the scientists had escaped from Hydra.   
  
"Long time no see, Doctor King." He leered, peeling back his lips in to a horrifying grin.   
  
  
  
"Fuck." James hissed, bringing up video footage of Charlie. She was backed up against a wall, with a guy holding on to one of her arms. Zooming in he sucked in air through his teeth. He recognised the Hydra Agent.   
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Charlie's got trouble." James reached for his gun.   
  
  
  
Charlie's mind was racing. Brennan was leaning in closer, leering in that same nightmarish way that she remembered from Hydra. Faintly, she remembered something one of her college professors had mentioned during a class.   
  
 _"Ladies, when you're in a situation where you can't get out, be it sexual assault or harassment, don't yell rape. Yell fire."_  
  
"Fire!" She shrieked, yanking her arm out of Brennan's grasp. He jumped backwards, shocked at her outburst, and she saw her window of opportunity. She took off, pushing through the crowds and slipping into a side street. It didn't take long for Brennan to follow, and halfway down the street a bullet ricocheted off the wall.   
  
She burst out into the street, crossing it and barely avoiding getting hit by a taxi. Brennan wasn't so lucky, and she heard a car horn blare behind her as she made it to the other side of the street. Glancing behind her she saw him pick himself up off the tarmac and begin moving again.   
  
She weaved her way through the people in the crowds, taking advantage of her small stature to slip through them easily. Somewhere along the way she lost her baseball cap, but she kept moving, pushing through the end of the street. She was one block from the park.   
  
She ran. She'd never run so fast in her life, her trainers hitting the ground with heavy, resounding thuds as a familiar tightness began to grow in her chest. God, she hoped she'd brought her inhaler with her.   
  
Parked by the fences Charlie could see a black stretch limo. She was so close, only two hundred feet away when Brennan caught hold of her, sending her crashing to the ground. She kicked out blindly behind her and her foot connected with something soft. She heard a groan and scrambled away from him, reaching instinctively for the gun in her pocket.   
  
Brennan picked himself up, grabbing his own gun and raising it to point it at Charlie. She squeezed the trigger twice, not even quite sure she'd meant to. The force of the gun going off made her stumble backwards a few feet. She saw Brennan fall, a look of surprise on his scarred face. She heard the clatter of the gun as it hit the tarmac. She heard her own blood pounding in her ears, and then she heard James' voice in her head.   
  
 _Run_.  
  
She turned and ran towards the limo, where she could see one of the doors was open waiting for her. She threw herself inside, landing sprawled out on a long seat, shaking and gasping for air through her struggling lungs. The door closed behind her and she was vaguely aware of the engine starting. The gun slipped from between her fingers and landed on the carpet of the limo.   
  
"Hey, hey." A man's voice brought her back to reality, and she turned in her seat to see the face she'd witnessed on TV. Tony Stark was sat opposite her, looking uncharacteristically concerned. "Hey, you're alright. Charlie, right? You're okay. You need something?"  
  
"Inhaler..." She wheezed, searching her pockets. The cell phone James had given her fell to the floor, but she couldn't find her inhaler.   
  
"Inhaler, that's okay, I can get one of them. Pepper, we've got one in here, right?"  
  
"Here." A blonde woman Charlie hadn't even noticed before pressed an inhaler into Charlie's hands, which she took gratefully and forced between her lips, taking two puffs. Slowly the ache in her chest subsided, and she relaxed back into the leather seat of the limo.   
  
"Thank you." She croaked. 


	14. Damaged

The second James burst onto the second floor of Stark Towers he was demanding to know where Charlie was, and if she was alright. After picking her up, Tony had sent a car to collect the two men, and had gone to collect Sam himself, leaving Pepper with Charlie at the tower.   
  
"She's alright, considering." Pepper said gently, directing him down the corridor to the guest bedrooms. James knocked twice on the first one he found and entered to an empty room.   
  
At first he thought he'd gotten the wrong room. Then he noticed that the en suite door was closed. Slowly, with Steve just behind him, he approached the door. As he got closer, he could hear the sound of retching. "Charlie?"  
  
The gagging sounds continued, and he didn't get an answer. "Charlie?"  
  
"Charlie, it's Steve and James. You want to come out?" Steve asked gently. There was a particularly violent sound of someone throwing up and both men winced. "Charlie?"  
  
"Go away." Her shaky reply came after a few moments of silence.   
  
"Charlie -"  
  
"I said  _go away_ , James."  
  
They exchanged concerned glances, and Steve suggested that he leave and let James talk to her alone. "Perhaps she'll talk to you. She hardly knows me."  
  
Steve left, and Bucky leaned against the door to murmur her name softly. "Charlie, talk to me. Please."  
  
"Go  _away_  James." Her voice trembled at the end of the sentence, and he felt something in his chest tighten. He reached for the doorknob, and in a similar style to the way he had broken the lock on the IG Corps labs door, he made his way into the room.   
  
She was curled up by the toilet, her forehead resting against the edge of the bowl. Her chest was heaving, and every so often he'd hear a little gasp come from her mouth. He could see even from the doorway that her face was stained with tears.   
  
"I told you to get out." She said, her voice harsh. She hadn't even looked up to him. He sat down beside her, and after a few seconds of deliberation, wound an arm around her shoulders. He could feel her violent shaking through the little plates of metal that made up his arm. After a few minutes of gently calling her name, she leaned back against his chest, physically exhausted and emotionally drained.   
  
"I killed him, James." She whispered. "I killed a man."  
  
"It wasn't your fault. He would have killed you. It was self defence." He soothed.   
  
"I killed him." She repeated. She felt numb inside. All the tears and the shock and the horror of what she'd done had faded, leaving only this empty feeling inside. She felt cold. "I murdered someone."  
  
"It wasn't murder." He assured her. "You were forced into that."  
  
"So were you." She murmured. "You were forced, James. They made you do the things you did. Made you kill."  
  
"Try not to think about it."  
  
"I want to go to bed."  
  
"Do you want a hand up?"  
  
There was a pause for thought. "I think that would be a good idea."  
  
He looped one arm underneath her and picked her up, carrying her bridal style from the en suite and laying her as gently as possible on the bed. She was limp in his arms as he laid her down, and when her head hit the pillow her eyes slipped closed. Soon her breathing evened out, and he could draw the covers up over her shoulders. His warm right hand lingered by her cheek for a moment, and he dragged the pad of his thumb along her jawline, following the curve until he stopped at her chin.   
  
She had, up until that point been different to him, different to Steve, different to Sam. They were men of war and combat. They'd seen first hand how bad fighting was. They'd seen death, become accustomed to it. They'd felt it, heard it, seen it, smelt it. She hadn't.   
  
But now that barrier, that protective wall that made her, somehow, for some reason better than the three of them had been shattered. She was just as haunted as the rest of them.   
  
She was just as damaged. 


	15. Scarred Inside

Charlie was reloading the Desert Eagle when James stepped into the firing range room. She heard his footsteps behind her but didn't turn around, instead pointing down the range and emptying the magazine.   
  
"How'd you know I'd be down here?" She asked, still not turning around.   
  
"Had a feeling."  
  
She reached for the next magazine listlessly, but before she could he'd stepped over to join her, batting her hand away from the bullets. "Charlie, give me the gun."  
  
"How much longer am I going to have to do this, James?" She asked, staring at the dark fabric that covered his torso before slowly looking up into his eyes. "Run from Hydra, sleep with my eyes open, never turn my back, never get comfortable? For the rest of my life?"  
  
He swallowed uncomfortably. "Probably."  
  
"Well I want to be prepared. What happened in the lab..." Her throat tightened painfully at the memory. "If it happens again, I want to be ready. I want to be able to stop it. I can't let more people get hurt because of me."  
  
He stared down at her. Down into the green eyes that had once looked so kindly at him while he was strapped to a chair. Into the eyes that had been blurred with tears, and wide with horror when he'd saved her from the assassin back in the lab. The eyes that now held an all too familiar look in them. He'd seen it in the mirror countless times.   
  
She was becoming used to death. Used to the idea of it, the feel of it, the sound of it. She was becoming brittle and hard, like Steve and Sam. Like him.   
  
He didn't want that. He didn't want her to be as tortured as them. As broken.   
  
"Charlie." He murmured, his voice as soft as possible, reaching out for her. "Come here."  
  
Thankfully, she stepped forwards, into his arms.  
  
  
 _"How's your head?" The Doctor asked softly. He stared up at her, wincing a little as he craned his neck.  
  
"It hurts."  
  
"Would you like an asprin?" She asked, crouching down so she was looking at him. "It'd help with the pain."  
  
"Yes," he croaked. "Please."  
  
She stood and crossed the room to her purse, which she'd brought in. She dug around in it for a couple of seconds, but before she could turn to give him the pills the door opened.   
  
"Afternoon, Doc." Brennan leered across the room at her. The Soldier watched as she stiffened.   
  
"Sargent Brennan, this is a private meeting." She said coldly. He raised an eyebrow.   
  
"Just wanted to see if you wanted any help..." His eyes drifted over to the Soldier, who was still strapped to the chair, unmoving. "With that."  
  
A muscle jumped in the Doctor's jaw. "We're fine, thank you. If I need your help, I'll call."  
  
Brennan's lip curled as he looked at the Soldier again. He was about to leave when he spotted the asprin bottle in the Doctor's hands. "What's that?"  
  
She faltered, and the Soldier stiffened in his chair. Brennan didn't notice as he approached her. "I said what the fuck is that?"  
  
"I - It's -"  
  
He knocked the bottle out of her hands, and as it hit the floor the cap came off and the pills exploded out across the floor. "You were gonna give those to it, weren't you? You were gonna drug The Asset, weren't you? Answer me!"  
  
"I wasn't, it was his head." She was trembling, backing up from Brennan, who's face was inches from hers. The Soldier scowled across the room at them both, his muscles contracting. "His head was hurting."_  
  
James stiffened as the memory flooded back to him. He could almost feel the adrenaline pulsing through him. He distantly registered Charlie calling his name, but he couldn't respond.   
  
"James?"  
  
 _"Stop lying to me!" Brennan spat, backing Charlie up so she was against the wall. "You were going to drug the Asset, weren't you?"  
  
"No, I swear I was -"  
  
Brennan raised his arm to hit her, but before he could the Soldier was on his feet. His metal fingers clamped down around the other man's wrist, wrenching it away from the woman's face. He threw Brennan to the floor, and in seconds he was on top of him, his left fist slamming repeatedly into his face, breaking the skin and drawing blood. Behind him, someone was screaming, sobbing.  
  
"Stop it, stop it!" her arms were around his shoulders, and she was trying pull him off. "Stop it, oh God, they'll kill you. They'll kill you. Pierce'll kill you, let him go. Please, please -"  
  
Her warm hand touched his metal arm, she tried to pull him away from the injured man. Her soft sobs and gentle, cracking voice made him stop. His breathing heavy, he leaned back on his haunches. Her forehead rested on his bare right shoulder, her breaths coming out in short, hot pants against his skin.   
  
"Thank you." She whispered.   
  
"He would have hurt you." He grunted. "He would have hit you."  
  
"You shouldn't attack them. Any of them. Do you understand me? No matter what they say, or do. You don't attack them. Please."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because they'll kill you." She whispered. The arms around him were no longer restraining him. She wasn't pulling on him any more, just clinging to his bulky frame. Her touch wasn't as desperate any more, now it was almost tender.   
  
"Okay." He said after a few moments silence. Then he felt something, a little pressure against his shoulder blade - if he hand't known any better he would have said she'd pressed her lips to his skin - and she'd stood up. He remained on top of Brennan, straddling him and considering his punishment.   
  
While the Doctor's back was turned he reached down to Brennan's knife-holster and drew it out. He knew exactly how he was going to make the other man pay..._  
  
  
"James?" Charlie was still staring up at him with those big green eyes. She was close to him now, their chests were practically touching. He looked down at the metal hand, the one that had beaten Brennan nearly to a pulp and given him that ugly scar across one side of his face, before looking back to her.   
  
He couldn't comfort her. Brennan's words rattled around inside his brain  _"the asset." "... if you wanted any help with that."_ The choice of words couldn't have been more apt. He wasn't human. Not in the way she was.   
  
"Excuse me." He croaked, backing up from her. He turned and left the shooting range, the door slamming shut behind him. Charlie stood there, alone and confused for a few seconds. And then, slowly, she began to consider why he'd left.   
  
And she began to cry.   
 


	16. Research

Sam hovered in the doorway of Charlie's room. He didn't think she even knew he was there. She was sitting alone in the room Tony had given her to stay in with the laptop he'd provided. Her earphones were in, blasting out some form of rock music, and he could just hear the blank noise from across the room. She was sat cross-legged in Steve's massive sweater which she'd never given back, her left foot twitching to the beat of her music.   
  
The mug of tea he'd brought her was starting to burn his hands, so he stepped into the room. She still didn't notice him as he approached; didn't even notice when he set the mug down on the bedside table. Whatever she was looking at on the laptop screen was completely engrossing, and had her undivided attention. He tapped her shoulder.   
  
"Jesus!" She jumped, instinctively snapping the laptop shut and clutching a hand to her heart. "Sam..."  
  
"Sorry." He shot her a rueful smile. "Didn't mean to make you jump. I saw your light was on, and I brought you some tea. It'll help you get some sleep."  
  
She clearly had no idea how long she'd been up for. "What time is it?"  
  
"Almost one. Everyone else is asleep."  
  
She pulled her earbuds out and smiled gratefully, accepting the mug. "It's been too long since I've had a good cup of tea."  
  
"Can't guarantee it'll be any good." He admitted, perching on the side of the bed and tipping his head in the direction of the now-closed laptop. "Anything interesting on?"  
  
She shrugged, putting the steaming mug to her lips and taking a tiny sip. "Just research."  
  
He pulled the laptop towards him and was mildly surprised when she made no move to stop him. When he opened the laptop up again it took a few seconds for the screen to come to life, but when it did he couldn't help but feel a little guilty for trespassing.  
  
"Like I said." Her voice was quiet and even as she put the mug back. "Research."  
  
She had what looked like ten tabs open on her browser with information on Hydra and The Winter Soldier. There were fact files, character profiles, assassinations and mission reports up, and as Sam passed the computer back to her he couldn't help but wonder how she'd managed to get herself tangled up in the mess. He asked her, and for a few moments she didn't reply. Just kept staring blankly at the screen.   
  
"Charlie?"  
  
"It's getting late, Sam." She shot him a smile that was a little too bright with eyes that were shining just a little bit too much. "You should get some sleep."  
  
He considered arguing back, demanding that she tell him about it, but he decided against it and instead left, calling 'goodnight' over his shoulder and leaving her alone with her research and her tea. 


	17. Interview

**Six Years Previously**  
  
 _Alexander Pierce flipped through the files on his desk. The Asset had already killed the fourth person brought in to do psychiatric work and evaluations with him this year, and it was August. The most recent one, the young girl who they'd brought on after her predecessor had been found with his head through the glass panel in the door of the meeting room with all the bones in his fingers broken - had lasted the longest. She would have, had she survived another week, worked with the Soldier for three months straight. Unfortunately, Pierce had just been informed they'd found the Soldier sat in the wiping chair with the girl laying sprawled out on the floor beside him. Her spine had been broken in two places._  
  
"He didn't kill the girl as fast." Pierce mused, pushing various files aside. He wanted the best and the brightest alone to work on his asset. Only those who were capable. He was now left with four candidates.   
  
Charlotte King, the Louisiana-born psychiatrist was the soft-spoken girl with the slight drawl he'd turned away five months previously on the grounds that the Soldier would have torn her to shreds in seconds. Cassidy Phillips, the older, more experienced woman had applied for the position of psychiatric researcher two weeks after King. Although older and more experienced, Pierce doubted she would survive with the Soldier, and so she had been turned away too. The other two candidates had applied, and both fit the 'young and attractive' model, but he didn't feel they were qualified.   
  
"Call the four female candidates again." He dictated to his young secretary. "Tell them the position has been re-opened."  
  
  
  
Charlotte King found herself back in Pierce's office a week later, clutching her resume in one hand as she drummed the fingers of the other on the armrest. Pierce was five minutes late.   
  
When he waltzed in without a care in the world ten minutes later she was more than a little annoyed, but shook his hand amicably nonetheless. She'd been explained the high level of pay that came with working for him, and if she was honest, she needed the money.   
  
"Mr Pierce." She smiled pleasantly as they both took their seats.   
  
"Doctor King. It's a pleasure to see you again."  
  
"I was informed the position I applied for in January has reopened?"  
  
"Yes, unfortunately the woman we hired instead left on maternity leave two weeks ago." The lie came easily, and she did not appear to detect it. "Anyway, after re-evaluating your credentials I believe you more than fill the position she left. If you wouldn't mind taking a quick walk with me? There are a few things I need to even out and check before I officially instate you."  
  
For a brief moment it almost seemed like she'd decline, but southern manners overruled any misgivings and she nodded, standing with him. "Of course, sir."  
  
As they walked down the corridors Pierce saw her eyebrows knit together. "Something the matter?"  
  
"No, nothing... I just..." She faltered. "I could have sworn I was told the position had been filled by a man."  
  
"Doubtful." They'd arrived at one of the many interrogation rooms of the building. "After you."  
  
She twisted the handle and stepped inside. And froze.   
  
The scene inside looked like it was from a horror movie. On one side of the room there were three women, all with the same matched look of terror on their faces. On the other side stood a group of men dressed all in black with guns in their hands.   
  
"Step inside, Doctor King." Pierce instructed from behind her. Dumbly, unthinking, she followed the order and stumbled inside. She was instantly grabbed from the side by one of the soldier-like men, and her mouth was gagged before she was pushed towards the other three women.   
  
The one in the middle was older than the other two - Charlie would have placed her at fifty. There was a cut on her forehead, and the blood was trickling down into her eyebrow, marring with the pencilled-in hair. The women either side were younger; one looked like she was in her early twenties and the other was probably closer to thirty. The younger one was leaning heavily on one leg, and as Charlie glanced down she saw what looked like an agonizingly painful dark bruise forming on the kneecap. The third woman was bent up a little - her ribs were probably cracked.   
  
As Charlie joined them Pierce left the room, and the four stood in terrified silence with the guns pointed at them. They were stood there for over half an hour, and every so often the girl with the bruised leg would waver a little, her balance faltering, and the Soldiers would yell. They all stood up straight after that, until she began trebling again.   
  
Then the door opened, and the atmosphere of the room changed. From the way the soldier's straightened, and puffed out their chests, and exchanged glances, it was obvious something was coming. Something to be feared. Something worse than the guns, or the threats or the bruises. Whatever was about to step through the door scared the hell out of the soldiers, and that in itself sent cold shocks down Charlie's spine.   
  
In stepped a man.   
  
Charlie expected at this anticlimax the pressure in the room would decrease. If anything it intensified, and as he moved to the centre of the room and stopped to face the four women, the reality sunk in that there was a very good chance she wouldn't step out of the room.   
  
Pierce had entered. As he walked towards the man with the long dark hair he smiled proudly. "Ladies, I would like you to meet your patient. This is what you have each applied so diligently for. The previous four applicants met with... Untimely demises, and I have decided that a way to minimise the casualties and maximise the efficiency is to let the patient choose his doctor. The Asset you see in front of you will choose the doctor he wishes to work with. The other three of you..." He drifted off, before feigning humility. "Well, we will no longer have use for you."  
  
Now Charlie realised she was screwed. She had a one in four chance of walking out of the door with everything where it belonged. 


	18. Chosen for a Purpose

Six Years Previously

The man surveyed the four women in silence. Then he pointed to the woman with the cracked ribs and beckoned her forwards with one finger. The woman didn't move. She was rooted to the spot with fear, and as one of the soldiers ordered her to move she shook her head violently, her mouth opening in a silent sob. The man's eyes narrowed, and he drew the gun from his thigh holster, firing at the ground in front of her. 

Her scream dissolved into a loud sob, and she begged him not to hurt her. He ignored her pleas, instead beckoning her with the same finger. "Come forward."

Slowly, she shuffled towards him, still sobbing. Snot was running from her nose onto the silk blouse she was wearing, discolouring it and turning it transparent. As she stumbled forwards he tipped his head to one side, evaluating her. Then, he lifted the gun again and fired. She hit the floor instantly, and without her sobs the room fell silent once more. 

"You." He pointed to the older woman who had been in the middle. With a surprisingly cool manner she approached him, staring him straight in the eye. For a few moments this continued in silence, and with every second that ticked by in silence the man looked more and more impressed, and Charlie could feel her chances of survival dwindling away faster and faster. 

"Go back." He ordered, and she did. As she walked back she shot the remaining two women a grim smile, before returning to her place. The man then beckoned the other younger woman. For a second, she froze too, and Charlie thought he would shoot at the ground again. Then she took one agonizingly slow step forwards, before doing something very stupid. 

It was amazing, Charlie later had time to muse, the wonderful things adrenaline could do to the body. The girl who before had barely been able to stand up straight was now headed for the door at a breakneck speed. She was quick, but the man in black, whoever he was, was faster. The gun went off, and with a shriek she hit the floor. Charlie jumped at the sudden noise, shuffling surreptitiously next to the older woman so their sides were pressed together. 

Then he turned those cold blue, killer eyes on her and beckoned her forwards. 

"Stay calm." 

She barely even heard the voice as she stepped forwards, her mind still reeling from the fact that there were two dead bodies in the room, but she realised that her companion must have given her the advice. 

Up close, even under the current circumstances she could appreciate the fact that he had once been an incredibly attractive man. Now, with the stubble and the dead look behind his eyes and the hollowed cheeks it was a fact that was a little less obvious, but with a little grooming he would have been pretty good looking. She concentrated on this as she stared him square in the eye, hoping to distract herself from the sheer smell of blood around her. 

Finally, looking only mildly impressed, he sent her back to stand with the older woman, who he beckoned in Charlie's place. She walked with confidence, purpose, like she was certain this was going to be the life saving praise that won her a ticket out of this room. He did in fact look incredibly impressed with her, and when she stopped in front of him he came close to a smile. Then, with lightening fast reactions he grabbed the sides of her face. One twist left, one twist right and there was a disgusting cracking noise that made Charlie want to vomit. As the older woman dropped to the floor he met her gaze once more. 

"You." He said gruffly. 

For a moment the room was silent, before Pierce nodded, assessing the situation. He set some men to clear the three bodies and ordered Charlie to step forward. "Walk with the Soldier, Doctor King."

Their eyes met once again, and this time she expected some kind of compassion now that the sick game had finished, but there was none. Just the eyes of a killer stared back at her.


	19. Vigilant

_"Good afternoon."_  
  
 _The Soldier looked up at the sound of her soft voice. He hadn't even heard her come in. It had been three weeks since the incident with Brennnan, and surprisingly, there had been no repercussions from his actions. Neither he or the doctor had faced any kind of punishment for his actions, and he was glad._  
  
 _She was flipping through the manilla file. "Says here that you're having nightmares?"_  
  
 _He nodded hesitantly in the chair._  
  
 _"Do you want to talk about it?"_  
  
 _He was about to reply when he noticed something. As the doctor sat down in her chair opposite him, her hair moved a little, revealing angry purple bruising on her cheekbone. He closed his mouth abruptly and frowned before speaking. "What happened?"_  
  
 _"Sorry?"_  
  
 _"To your face." He reached out with his right hand, brushing away strands of curly brown hair. His index and middle fingers rested on the marks gently, almost tenderly. "Who did this to you?"_  
  
 _She cupped his hand with her own and managed a weak smile, before moving it away from her face. "It isn't important."_  
  
 _Had he been as pliable as he was after a wiping, this line would have worked. Now though, it had been almost two months since he'd been wiped, and he was more resistant. "It is to me."_  
  
 _"Leave it." she ordered, her voice oddly clipped and cold as she spoke this time._  
  
 _"Who did this to you?" He persisted, shuffling forwards a little in his seat. She shook her head, but he moved his hand back to her face and worked his fingers around so that he was holding the back of her head, in the junction where her skull met her spine. He forced her to look at him. "Who?"_  
  
 _Her resolve had weakened, and when she spoke her voice was barely audible. "Rumlow."_  
  
 _The Soldier gave something close to a growl, and her eyes widened. She knew that look. "Don't do anything to him. Please."_  
  
 _"He hurt you. Why?"_  
  
 _She touched his hand gently with her own, rubbing her thumb comfortingly across the skin. "Leave it."_  
  
 _"Does it happen a lot?" It was obvious that he wasn't going to drop the issue._  
  
 _A line appeared between her eyebrows and she sighed. "Sometimes. But I'm being serious. Do you remember what I told you before, with Brennnan?"_  
  
 _"They'll kill me." His voice was monotonous and robotic as he repeated her earlier words. He could still feel her against his shoulder blade, clinging to him as he steadied his breathing._  
  
 _"And I couldn't watch that. So please, don't do anything." There was a brief pause. "For me?"_  
  
  
  
 _It was late on Friday evening, and Charlie was going for her shower. The shower block in Hydra was, like everything else in the building, uniform and bleak. The room was large, with ten cubicles along the back wall. Mirrors lined the other wall, facing the cubicles. She took the cubicle furthest from the door, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. She stripped down and hung her clothes with her towel over the door before stepping under the spray._  
  
 _Showers were relaxing in Hydra. They were a chance for a little freedom, and Charlie felt that as the water washed over her it was washing away the disgusting job she had to do._  
  
 _A knock on the cubicle door interrupted her from her humming and washing. She glanced over her shoulder, mildly irritated. Couldn't they see her clothes on the door? "It's occupied."_  
  
 _The knocking persisted, and she shut off the spray. Grabbing her towel and wrapping it around herself, she wrenched the door open, barking a harsh "Yes?"_  
  
 _The door opened to the Soldier. He was dressed in full combat gear, including the jacket that covered his metal arm but forgoing the mask that obscured his mouth. "Doctor King."_  
  
 _"What are you doing here?" Charlie hissed, looking around the otherwise empty room. The Soldier followed her gaze before looking back at her._  
  
 _"I came to get you."_  
  
 _"You have to leave." Charlie clutched the towel to herself a little tighter. "If someone finds you -"_  
  
 _"I've come to get you, to take you -" He cut across her, but his sentence was interrupted by the sounds of footsteps and voices. She grabbed the front of his combat suit and, without thinking too much, tugged him into the cubicle with her, sliding the lock closed behind him. She turned the spray back on and hovered by the door, waiting._  
  
 _There were at least two Hydra agents on the other side of the door. She could hear their voices. "Where the fuck did it go?"_  
  
 _"The fuck if I know, but -"_  
  
 _"Is someone in the end one?"_  
  
 _Improvising wildly, Charlie began to sing, just like she would do ordinarily in the shower. "Somewhere, over the rainbow... Bluebirds fly..."_  
  
 _There was a loud knock at the door, and slowly, she opened it  crack. Brennan was on the other side, with Rumlow. They both scowled at her through the crack in the door. "Is there a problem?"_  
  
 _"The Asset's escaped. Killed the guards escorting him to his room, took their weapons and ran." Rumlow cast her a suspicious glance. "You seen him?"_  
  
 _"No, Agent Rumlow, I haven't."_  
  
 _He continued to stare at her with those unreadable dark eyes. "What did you talk about in the last meeting you two had?"_  
  
 _"His headaches. They're getting worse after each wiping. Do we have to do this now?"_  
  
 _His eyes narrowed a little again, but he nodded. "Fine. I'll be seeing you later."_  
  
 _There was a dark, almost ominous sound to his words, and as she closed the door Charlie shuddered instinctively. She waited until the footsteps faded before turning back to the Soldier, who was stood behind her in the shadows of the cubicle silently._  
  
 _"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She hissed, approaching him. He almost recoiled - at least flinched - at the harsh tone of her voice. "You killed your guards, they're looking for you... Oh God, are you trying to escape? If you leave... Oh God, Pierce'll think I said something, and he'll get Rumlow to..." She broke off, shaking her head. "Why are you doing this?"_  
  
 _He looked confused - even hurt - at her outburst. "I've come to get you. To take you away from here."_  
  
 _She faltered, taken aback. "You want to... take me?"_  
  
 _"Somewhere safe. Where they can't hurt you." His eyes, those baby blue eyes that she could never believe belonged to a killer were huge, wider than they'd ever been before._  
  
 _She didn't have time to think. Didn't have time to say no, simply told him to turn around before grabbing her clothes and tugging them on. He waited patiently until she'd slipped her shoes on and buttoned her blouse as far as time would allow, before turning to her again._  
  
 _She unlatched the door, and after peeking outside to check the coast was clear, they left the shower block, his large hand reaching for hers in the dim emergency lock down lighting that fell._  
  
  
James rolled over on the bed, a low moan escaping his lips as he finally sat up. It was a painful memory, one that had plagued him since they'd found Charlie and brought her with them. He hated it, and every time it floated back to him he got a little further before stopping himself. What came next was something he wanted to forget entirely.   
  
He'd wanted to protect her. He'd been a killer, a murderer, a monster and she'd been scared of him. He'd always been able to sense that; the slight apprehension whenever they got too close, the tensing of her muscles, the way she'd never keep his eye for more than a few seconds. She was scared of him, and had every right to be. But still he wanted to protect her, keep her safe from the beatings that Rumlow seemed to deal out regularly. He wanted to take her away some place secluded, start a new life with her away from Hydra, and tell her about all his dreams without fear that someone else would hear them. They'd both been Pierce's prisoners, and he'd tried to free her.   
  
He gave another long, low sigh as he pictured her. He could still, possibly, do that. There were safe houses, cabins that he knew in secluded woodland towns up north. He could take her there, and they would be safe and free together. James closed his eyes, a blissful smile creeping across his lips as he pictured the two of them in a log cabin together, stoking a fire to keep warm as they huddled together under a shared blanket. And then, as they spent more time together, she would see that he wasn't all monster and all killer, and maybe, just maybe, she'd fall in love with him.   
  
A knock at the door stirred him from his thoughts before they could grow too graphic (he'd just about reached the part where they were laying on the hearth under a blanket together, kissing). With a sigh he hauled himself out of bed and went to answer the door. It was Sam.   
  
"Hey man. You got a minute? We need to talk about Charlie."


	20. Training

James looked across the breakfast bar to Charlie, who'd scraped her short hair back into a tiny ponytail. Sam had told him about the 'research' she'd been doing online, and he'd been trying to think of a way to make her feel a little more safe. He'd only come up with one idea.   
  
"Morning." He said through a mouthful of cornflakes finally, breaking the silence. She looked up from the newspaper and shot him a small, weary smile.   
  
"Good morning, James."  
  
"So I was thinking..." He swallowed the last of his mouthful of food before continuing. Her attention was completely directed at him now. "That you need to know some self defence."  
  
"Can't argue with that."  
  
"You can shoot... Your aim's getting better, but you'd be an easy target for hand to hand combat. No offence." He added quickly. She brushed it off.   
  
"Don't worry about it. You're... You're right. I should get some sort of training in. And I guess you'd be the best person to help me."  
  
He was surprised she'd agreed to it - he'd thought she'd make some sort of feeble protest that she was alright and didn't need his help. "Great, in which case we should start -"  
  
"On one condition."  
  
He faltered. Of course there would be a condition. "Yes?"  
  
She shifted from her stool and came around to stand in front of him. They were just about equal height with him on the stool and her standing. "I want to start treating you. Start from scratch, get rid of all that... Conditioning I had to put you through in Hydra. Make things better for you."  
  
He licked his lips. "That isn't our biggest problem right now."  
  
"It's why you came to get me. It's why you pulled me out of that lab, James. You saved my life." Her green eyes flickered almost uncertainly across his face. "Let me help with yours?"  
  
He smiled gently. "Training first, head work later. Deal?"  
  
  
  
Forty five minutes later they were hot and sweaty and on the floor.   
  
Charlie had to admit she'd been in less desirable positions. James was hanging over her, strands of dark hair matted across his forehead with sweat, his breath coming out in short bursts. He grinned down at her. "I'll admit, that time you were better."  
  
"Jerk." She panted, wiping her forehead with her arm and taking his hand as he helped her to her feet. "So what am I doing wrong?"  
  
"Put your feet wider apart. That's better. Now try and block me, like I showed you before."  
  
She barely even had time to move before he'd grabbed her and flipped her. She hit the crash mats that covered the floor with an unladylike grunt, and James was straddling her once more. "Okay, Jesus... Alright, I get it. You're good."  
  
He chuckled, a sound which caught her off guard. She couldn't actually remember seeing him smile before, not like this. Not all teeth and  _actually laughing_  and eyes lighting up. It made him look about five years younger and for a fleeting moment she forgot that if he wanted to he could kill her with one hand.   
  
"Want a hand up?"  
  
"Sure, you jerk."  
  
He chuckled again and pulled her to her feet, allowing her to go grab a drink from the side of the gym. There was a long silence while she drank and he relaxed against the wall, waiting for her to catch her breath so they could start again.   
  
Finally she spoke. "Can I ask you something?"  
  
He straightened up, hesitant. "Shoot."  
  
There was a pause while she chose her words carefully. "A couple of days ago, in the shooting range, when you almost..." She turned to face him, swallowing hard. "You almost hugged me."  
  
Something sank in his chest. This. "... Yes?"  
  
"You walked out..." She swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably. "I was... Was it because of me?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I'm not... The same as I was when you knew me before. Back in Hydra. Now I'm..." She paused, searching for the right word. "Damaged."  
  
She swallowed hard, and James felt a sharp pain in his chest. He didn't even recall crossing the room, but then he was stood in front of her, cupping her face with his right hand and tipping her chin up so she looked at him. She looked so fragile in his hand, her big green eyes watery and starting to redden with tears that threatened to spill over. "It's not you... It's not you at all, Charlie."  
  
She swallowed hard, visibly, blinking rapidly. One tear leaked and rolled down her cheek, hitting the pad of his thumb where it rested on her cheek. "Then what? You just walked, like you'd -"  
  
"Do you remember the day I gave Brennan that scar? The day he came in and tried to hit you?"  
  
She shivered, but nodded. "Yes."  
  
"I did that. I beat him within an inch of his life. I carved into his  _face_. You remember some of the things I've done, don't you?"  
  
She nodded reluctantly.   
  
"I've done some awful things, Charlie. I've... I was a monster.  A Ghost story. A myth. I was a weapon." He croaked. "And what if I do something, flip again?"  
  
"You're doing a good job so far." She murmured, and he smiled gently, ruefully.   
  
"Are you scared of me?"  
  
"Only a little." She admitted. There was a pause, and then:  
  
"Can I have that hug now?"  
  
He wrapped his arms around her and brought her in, cupping her forehead to his chest and resting his chin on the top of her head with a tiny smile, one that he barely allowed himself.   
  
Maybe there was a little hope left for him after all. 


	21. Something Amiss

They'd been living in the Stark Tower for over a week when JARVIS alreted them that something was amiss in the tower _._ The five inhabitants of the tower were eating Chinese food around the TV when the AI alerted them.  
  
 _"Sir, I believe there is an unwanted presence in the garage of the tower."_  
  
"Break in?" Tony asked as the others began straightening up. James already had a gun in his hand.  
  
 _"I believe so, yes sir_. _"_  
  
"Bring up the video footage." Tony said, his voice terse and clipped as James and Steve stood, Sam taking Charlie's arm and helping her to her feet. She shook him off.

"Guys, we don't even know that it's Hydra..."  
  
"Trust me." James growled, taking the safety of his gun off. "It's -"  
  
The glass of the window behind them shattered with the force of some sort of explosion, and somewhere nearby, Pepper shrieked. Tony dragged her to the floor and shielded her with his body as tiny shards of glass flew around them. Sam dove behind the couch and Steve knocked Charlie to the floor. He and James began firing out into the night as Hydra Agents began dropping through the now open window into the room.  
  
Charlie crawled across the carpet, hissing as glass dug into and cut through her hands and arms. She made her way across the room to hide behind the bar, which also doubled upon occasion as a mini kitchen area. Rifiling through the drawers, keeping as low as possible, she produced a kitchen knife.  
  
Slamming the drawer shut, she peeked around the edge of the bar. Tony and Pepper had disappeared - presumably to find the Iron Man suits in the tower - and Steve, James and Sam were either shooting at or taking on hand to hand the Hydra Agents that were beginning to pour into the living room.  
  
A hand clamped around her ankle, the pressure increasing around it painfully. She shrieked as whoever had grabbed her ankle hauled her backwards so she landed painfully on her front. Rolling over awkwardly, she lashed out with the knife, trying to hit anything in front of her.  
  
The knife slashed the front of the Hydra agent's combat suit, and he pulled back with a hiss as she drew blood. Using his moment of distraction, Charlie kicked him hard in the chest, sending him flying backwards. Somewhere in the room, she heard James calling her name.  
  
"Charlie?" James snapped the neck of the nearest Hydra agent and stabbed the one headed for Steve in the back. "Charlie!"  
  
"Did she go with Tony and Pepper?" Sam broke the nose of the tall guy standing in front of him and took his gun, firing twice.  
  
"No, I got her on the ground." Steve backhanded an agent coming at him, scanning the room for any sign of the doctor.  
  
"I'm here!" She was crawling out from behind the bar when James saw her, a knife in one hand. He was about to grab her, get her out of the room to safety when he heard Sam's voice behind him, alerting him to another agent.  
  
The guy was on top of him before he had the chance to react, and then he was on the floor with a knife to his throat. His metal arm twisted underneath his attacker, and with a grunt, he flexed his fingers, bracing them. The man screamed as his cold fingers pierced the leather of his combat suit and the soft flesh of his stomach. Two sharp blows to the side of the head and James was up, looking to pinpoint Charlie again.  
  
She was gone. When he checked the bar he realised it was empty, with only a bloody knife and a dark red puddle indicating anyone had been there at all.  
  
"JARVIS," he growled, shooting three Hydra agents with ease as he headed towards the double doors at the end of the room. "Where the fuck is Charlie?"  
  
 _"Doctor King was removed forcibly from the room by one of the Hydra Agents, Mr Barnes."_  
  
"Where did they go?"  
  
 _"They are headed towards the east wing. Would you like me to do an analysis of Doctor King's vitals?"_  
  
James swallowed hard. He didn't really want to hear them. "Yes, do it."  
  
There was a pause as he left the turmoil of the living room to the eerie calm of the corridor beyond. _"Doctor King's pulse is dramatically elevated, however it appears her blood pressure is dropping. I believe she is in need of medical attention."_  
  
James swore loudly. "What did he do to her?"  
  
 _"Judging by video footage from the living room she has been stabbed. She appears to be losing a lot of blood."_  
  
"What fucking room are they in?" He yelled, cursing the AI and it's smooth, unassuming tone amidst the panic that was flowing through the Stark Tower.  
  
 _"Second door on your left."_  
  
He burst through the door with his gun aloft, but nearly dropped it at what he saw. The Hydra agent was obviously trying to make an escape; he'd opened the window and was about to climb through it. That wasn't the problem.  
  
The problem was the figure on the floor.  
  
James fired, emptying his gun into the Hydra agent, who, if not already dead, toppled out of the window to his death. James was already crossing the room to the heap on the floor. His footsteps slowed as something tightened painfully in his throat - she was dead.  
  
She was dead and he'd killed her. He hadn't, despite all his efforts, been able to keep her alive.  
  
"Charlie..." He managed to croak, a burning, painful sensation rising in his chest.  
  
The figure on the floor moved. It was only miniscule, but James was moving again. He'd dropped to his knees in front of her, and gently, he eased her over so that she wasn't curled up in the fetal position, and was instead laying flat out with her head in his hands.  
  
"Charlie?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "Charl- JARVIS, vitals."  
  
 _"Doctor King's vitals are 110 over 70 and dropping fast."_  
  
"Jesus." He cradled her head, cupping her cheeks as he eyelashes fluttered against her cheek. "Alert an ambulance. Now."  
  
 _"Already handled, sir."_  
  
James pulled his belt off, looping it around her waist and tightening it around the wound in an attempt to staunch the heavy bleeding. She arched upwards, groaning, but he cupped her face and murmured nonsense and she relaxed back against him with a whimper.  
  
 _"Captain Rogers and Mr Wilson have terminated the remaining Hydra agents, and the Mr Stark has deployed the Iron Man suits to handle any air attackers. The building is secure."_  
  
"Thank you, JARVIS."  
  
 _"The ambulance will be here in less than two minutes, sir."_  
  
James bowed his head, clinging onto Charlie's shivering body as he waited.  
  
  
"She's going to be okay."  
  
James's head raised slowly. Steve was stood in front of him, offering out a steaming cup of coffee. They were in the waiting room of New York's Presbyterian University Hospital - as Tony had assured them, the best in the State - waiting for Charlie to come out of surgery.  
  
"Doctors said she lost a lot of blood, but after an overnight stay she'll be stable, well enough to come back to the Stark Tower to rest up. Then we can think about the next step. Tony's already recalibrating his security systems." Steve put a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder. "It won't happen again."  
  
"She's gonna live?"  
  
"She'll have a nasty scar, won't be lifting anything for a while - hell, she'll be practically bed ridden for a week - but yeah, she'll live."  
  
A faint, weary smile crossed James' cracked, dry lips. It faded quickly. "That never should have happened to her."  
  
"Buck, you can't blame yourself."  
  
"I don't blame myself." He grunted. "I blame Pierce. Blame Rumlow. Blame Hydra. Blame those fucked up people. She never should have been in the room with me to begin with. If she hadn't been in the fucking room with me, hadn't treated me..."  
  
"Bucky, you have to calm down -"  
  
"She could have a normal life, Steve." He hissed, rising quickly and surprising his friend. "Have friends, a family, boyfriend -" He shook his head, running his fingers through bedraggled brown hair. "But instead she's nearly dying in a fucking hospital bed because I wasn't quick enough to get the guy that _stabbed her_."  
  
"Buck -"  
  
"I'm not going to _calm down_ , Steve!" He roared, slapping away the coffee the blond was still holding out for him. The styrofoam cup hit the floor and splashed out across the white tiles impressively. "She shouldn't have to look over her shoulder every day. Shouldn't have to be afraid that something like this'll happen. It shouldn't have to be this way for her."  
  
At first he thought Steve would meekly apologise and back down. He couldn't have been more wrong. An angry red flush had appeared on his friend's cheeks. "Yeah, and you know what else, Bucky? _We_ shouldn't even be here! You and I should be in some retirement home, telling war stories to our _Grandkids_. Not looking after the doctor of a Neo-Nazi organisation who got stabbed because she couldn't watch her own back!"  
  
James nearly hit him. He raised his fist too, leaned forwards, but the orderly that came around to clean the split coffee interrupted them. They broke apart, scowling.  
  
"You're right, Steve." He said after a moment's thought. "It isn't going to happen to her again. Ever."  
  
Steve couldn't even ask what he meant. The other man had already stalked off down the corridor.  
  
When they went to Charlie's hospital room the next morning to find her bed empty and her charts missing, Steve didn't have to think too hard about who might have taken her, and why.  
  
"Jesus, Buck..." He murmured, sharing a worried glance with Sam as the doctors and nurses around them called for a lock down. It was too late. Bucky was an assassin, credited with hundreds of kills. If he wanted to be invisible, he was invisible.  
  
They weren't going to find him, or Charlie any time soon.


	22. Nightamre City

**Six Months Later**  
  
James was laying on the couch, a bottle of vodka in one hand. He was flipping his knife in his free hand, his agility and grace barely impared by the copious amounts of alcohol in his system. He took another swig from the bottle and let his head drop back agains the armrest of the couch, a low, broken moan escaping his barely parted lips. His eyes slipped shut.  
  
She was safe. He had to concentrate on that. Charlie was safe.  
  
"James?"  
  
He didn't even stir. This was the beginning of another dream. A better dream. Maybe in this dream she'd be there, in one of the heavy plaid shirts of his she'd sneaked to wear to bed. Maybe she'd crawl onto the couch with him, press her lips against his burning skin. Maybe she'd kiss away all the pain, make him forget. Maybe this dream wouldn't end with him on the wooden floor of the bedroom with a gun in one hand and tears of terror threatening to spill from his eyes.  
  
"James." The couch sank with the added weight of a second body, and he felt a soft hand caress his cheek. "Open your eyes."  
  
"I don't want to." He murmured, his voice barely above a murmur. Any moment now she'd take the vodka bottle and cuddle up against his side.  
  
"You aren't dreaming."  
  
His eyes snapped open, and he sat up. He was in the small, shabby front room of the safe house they'd found in North Dakota. Charlie was sat at the other end of the couch from him, her grown out hair pushed away from her face with a grey cotton sweatband.  
  
"You said they were getting better."  
  
"They are." He said, putting the bottle on the floor beside him. A muscle jumped in her jaw.  
  
"Please don't lie to me."  
  
He sighed. She always knew which buttons to push to get information out of him. Gentleness alwas won out in conversations like this. She never raised her voice, never ordered him to do anything. Just politely asked, and got hurt when he lied. And she always knew when he was lying.  
  
"They're better than they were, Charlie."  
  
She carded her fingers through his hair. "You should get some sleep. You're a wreck."  
  
"I can't... Not tonight. Not after..."  
  
She frowned as he broke off, returning to listlessly flipping the knife in his free hand. "What did you dream about?"  
  
"It was before your time. In the nineties." He rubbed a hand over his face, scratching at the stubble that coated the lower half of his face absently. "I knew him..."  
  
Charlie knew exactly which case he was talking about. In the six months she'd known him she'd had plenty of time to research the ins and outs of The Winter Soldier, and of Bucky Barnes. 16th of December, 1991 was the date he was thinking of.  
  
"It wasn't you doing it." She assured him, her voice low and gentle. "It was The Winter Soldier. Hydra's weapon. That's not you, not anymore."  
  
He hung his head low for a few more seconds, steadying his breathing before finally nodding. "Not anymore."  
  
"Get some sleep." She put her hand over his, stopping him from flipping his knife any more. "Come to bed. I'm cold."  
  
He smiled ruefully despite the bad dream. North Dakota was cold in the winter, and the cabin they'd located didn't have much in the way of central heating. As a result James had woken up to Charlie crawling into his bed and tucking herself into his armpit to keep warm on more than one occasion. It had become a more regular occurence as the weeks together had gone on, and now it was actually more rare for her to sleep in her own bed than in his.  
  
"Okay."  
  
"I'll be right up behind you." She assured him as he stood. He gave her an odd look but nodded and headed for the stairs, taking them slowly. She stayed on the couch, listening and counting each footstep, each squeaky floorboard until he was on the landing. Then she picked up the vodka bottle, paused, took a swig, and capped it.  
  
She traced the footsteps he must have taken when he'd come downstairs after his nightmare to the cupboard at the edge of the kitchen, where she knew he'd gotten it from. When she opened the cupboard door she realised this wasn't the only bottle he'd grabbed from the local store.  
  
"Oh, James..." She sighed, counting three other bottles as she replaced the now half empty vodka. She closed the cupboard and started back up the stairs flipping the knife absent-mindedly in much the same way he had been doing.  
  
He was waiting for her when she got into the room they shared. Her bed was on the other side, pressed against the opposite wall to his. He was leaning on his side, waiting for her to come in. She placed the knife of the vanity he'd picked up cheaply for her and joined him in the bed, clinging on to him a little tighter than normal.  
  
"Goodnight, Charlie." He combed his fingers through her hair, his coordination mildly more awkward than normal. She pressed her nose a little further into his t-shirt, breathing in his comforting smell of alcohol, deoderant and sweat from chopping wood in the backyard that afternoon.  
  
"Goodnight, James."


	23. Wolves in Winter

"James, I told you it's fine."  
  
"I want to check."  
  
"It's been six months." She caught his hand as he reached for the hem of her t-shirt. "You kept it clean when we got here, got me checked out in the local the day we arrived, and you've barely even let me do anything since then. The doctor said I'd be fine after three months, four at the most."  
  
"It was a serious wound, Charlie." He said sharply. "And that's without being moved a day after the attack."  
  
He didn't look convinced. "I want to look at it."  
  
With a sigh she lifted her t-shirt, allowing him to get a better look. He crouched beside her, running his hands along the scar tissue. The doctors had been right - it was an ugly, brutal looking scar, not helped in the least by half the stitches being re-opened on the bumpy road from the hospital. He ran the index finger of his human hand along the mark, probing it for any give. Although it was mainly just a scar with a little last bits of scabbing he still felt a little over-protective. "It doesn't look good. I don't think you should come."  
  
"For Christs' sake, James." She tugged the shirt back down, surprising him and turning her back to make herself a cup of coffee.  
  
"Charlie?"  
  
"You don't need to protect me all the time, you know that, don't you?" She snapped, not looking at him over her shoulder. He blinked reproachfully.  
  
"I just wanted to -"  
  
"Stop treating me like I'm a child." She spat, swinging around to face him. "Stop treating me like I'm some delicate, fragile piece of art. I'm not your special _fucking_ snowflake, and I don't need you to patronize me and treat me like I'm weak."  
  
There was a silence in the kitchen when she finished her outburst. It had surprised him. He'd never seen her angry like that, and certainly never with him. For a few seconds neither of them made any move. She was frozen with terror - she knew James Barnes would never hurt her, but she couldn't guarantee that yelling like that wouldn't trigger some sort of Winter Soldier response from him.   
  
Finally, he nodded, taking a step back. He could almost _hear_ her exhaling with relief. "You're right. I just... I don't want you to get hurt. I never have."  
  
She sighed, exasperated. "I know."  
  
"You can come if you want. We've only got one axe, but -"  
  
"No, it's fine." She shook her head. "I think I'm going to have a lie down. I don't feel wonderful."  
  
He frowned. He didn't ever feel particularly comfortable leaving her alone in the house asleep. In fact, when they'd first come to Green Acres, North Dakota he would only ever leave the house for half hour intervals. He'd only ever begun to leave for longer when she was able to move around more easily unaided, and then he'd allow himself an hour, hour and a half at the most to be away from the cabin.  
  
"I on't have to go. I can wait until later."  
  
"We need the firewood. We're almost out. I'll be fine on my own."  
  
"Have you got the gun?"  
  
"I've got the gun."  
  
He nodded, frowning again, before turning to leave. She called his name.  
  
"I'm sorry for snapping."  
  
"I understand." He shot her a small, grim smile before leaving. She watched him disappear around the side of the cabin into the dark woods with an axe in one hand before dropping down into the wooden chair at the kitchen table and rubbing her forehead. She really didn't feel well.  
  
"Christ, I hope I'm not coming down with anything..." She groaned into her hands before standing and grabbing a Cold and Flu pack from the cupboard. As washed the two pills down with a cup of coffee she noticed that it was starting to snow outside. The first gentle flakes came down around the window, and as she watched they gathered speed, clumping together occasionally to form bigger flakes. She frowned, thinking about how empty the pantry was getting. When James got back she'd have to remind him to go to the store.  
  
As she turned to leave the kitchen she heard the low mournful howl of a wolf somewhere outside, and she froze. Scanning the woods quickly, she reached into the nearby kitchen drawer for one of the many guns James had stashed around for them to grab in case of emergency.  
  
Wolves, she had decided not long after they'd moved into the cabin, were something she truly loathed. They spent much of the night howling morosely at each other, and more than once they'd woken to find one or two scratching at the door or growling. James had killed five since they'd arrived. He hated them more than she did.  
  
She didn't bother going upstairs. She knew now that she wasn't going to get any sleep until she knew he was safe back in the cabin. Instead she sat in the kitchen with her gun in hand, staring out of the kitchen window into the swirling white haze.


	24. Wounded

When James came back to the cabin an hour later, she could tell something was wrong. From the dull thud of him letting the axe drop carelessly to the floor, to the slow, uncoordinated sound of his footsteps, something wasn't right. He stumbled into the kitchen, hissing in pain when he misjudged the doorframe and glanced off it.   
  
"James!"  
  
His bowed head shot up at the sound of her voice. "I thought you were asleep."  
  
"I couldn't - what happened to you?" She stood up, leaving the gun on the table. "James?"  
  
As she got closer she could see it. He'd been attacked, probably by one of the wolves. His plaid shirt was marred with blood with streaked up his neck, the fabric on the shoulder ripped away so much that she could see the torn, bleeding flesh. "I'm fine."  
  
"You're a liar." She directed him to the nearby chair and grabbed the medical kit from under the sink. "Take off your shirt."  
  
For a moment he hesitated, but at her stern glance he complied, wincing as he moved his arm. She sucked in the air through her teeth as she got nearer, seeing the full extent of the damage. His right shoulder had been ripped to shreds by claws and teeth, and the blood was seeping freely in between his metal fingers.   
  
"Jesus Christ, James..." She murmured, balling up his shirt for him to hold against it while she opened up the medical kit. "What happened?"  
  
"Wolves." He grunted. "Charlie, I can do this."  
  
"Shut up." She snapped, moving the cloth and taking out the antiseptic wipes. The last thing she wanted was James down with a fever. "Let me do this."  
  
He tried to protest again, but with another sharp look he sighed and allowed her to clean the wound. As she wiped the blood away she frowned - the wound didn't look like he'd been mauled. It was too clean, too precise.   
  
James saw the line appear between her eyebrows and cursed internally. She'd put two and two together soon enough and then she'd figure it out. And then she'd look up at him with those big green eyes, and then there'd be the soft 'Oh, James...'  
  
He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable while she tried her best to keep the wound clean and examine it.   
  
It didn't look like bite marks and claw marks. The wound itself looked like a puncture wound, and then the flesh around it looked... Almost like someone had dug into it.   
  
"James..." She swallowed hard. "What happened out in the forest?"  
  
"Dress it?"  
  
She took out the bandage and slowly, carefully wrapped and gauzed his shoulder before looking up at him again. Tiny beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, and with every particularly deep intake of breath he couldn't help but wince. "What happened?"  
  
"I got attacked."  
  
"I can see that. By what?"  
  
There was a long pause.   
  
"James." She could hear her own voice slipping into the tone she'd used to address Rumlow and his men in Hydra. That same short, clipped, cold voice. "Look at me."  
  
Slowly, taking her voice as a warning for her mood, he looked down at her. "I've taken care of it."  
  
"It wasn't a wolf, was it?"  
  
He shook his head.   
  
"Hydra?"  
  
"Yeah. He came out at me while I was chopping wood. Shot me, got me on the floor... I took care of him. And the guy coming towards the cabin."  
  
He expected her to recoil and turn away from him completely disgusted. Instead, he was surprised to see her gaze harden.   
  
"Where are the bodies?"


	25. First Blood

Winter, Charlie decided, was the best time (if there was one) to kill and hide the bodies of two Hydra agents. The heavily falling snow meant that James's tracks had already been covered, and had he not given her exact directions to the bodies she wouldn't have been able to find them. He'd hidden them by the creek about a half mile into the forest between a few felled trees. It was unlikely anyone would find them as very few people ventured this far into the woods, but Charlie wanted to make sure that nothing tied them to the bodies.   
  
The first was an agent she recognised from Hydra. He'd been one of the members of Rumlow's strike team - McClean, he might have been. Young, inexperienced, a little clumsy and naive, she'd never felt as intimidated by him as she had done with the others. Now he was laying with his neck broken, his head lolling to one side like a ragdoll. Beside him was the other body, of an agent she didn't recognise. She doubted that even if she had known him in Hydra she'd have been able to identify him instantly; James had made quite a mess of him, presumably with the axe. There were deep sections of his shoulder and neck that had been hacked away at, but the axe hadn't gone all the way through his neck, so his head hung at a sickening, impossible angle too.   
  
Grimacing, Charlie began searching them both, rooting through their combat suits for any identification, or anything tying them to Charlie or James. There were wallets, ID cards (presumably false) and pictures of Charlie and James. They'd pulled her old photo that had been taken on her first day, and a photo of James from his file. She pocketed them and continued searching the two men, trying not to move the nearly-decapitated body too much.   
  
A radio crackled to life on the inside of McClean's jacket, and Charlie scrambled for it, turning up the volume so she could hear a little better. The voice was calling them in for a meet up and a conformation that both Charlie and James were dead. She swallowed hard, examining McClean's gun as the rendezvous point was clarified on the radio.  
  
 _"Twenty minutes and we're leaving, with or without you. You'd better not be fucking late."_ was the parting statement before the radio went dead. Without a second thought, Charlie snatched McClean's rifle and covered the bodies with some bracken from the trees before setting off, following the path of the creek until it narrowed.   
  
When it narrowed to about a metre she hopped over, landing in the snow on the other side without a sound. From here it was downhill to the point the voice on the radio had stated, meaning that theoretically she would have both the visual and tactical advantage.   
  
She crept downhill, checking her watch. She had ten minutes until the voice would be leaving. Night was falling quickly, and she could tell that it was noticeably more dim halfway down the hillside than at the top with the bodies by the creek. As she moved quickly, thankful for the snow that padded her footsteps, she heard voices. She quickly tucked herself behind a nearby tree.   
  
"Fucking McClean."  
  
"Give him ten minutes." The second voice was a little more hesitant than the first, and Charlie suspected she was nearing a junior officer and his superior.    
  
"I'm freezing my fuckin' ass off out here. It was supposed to be a quick in-out job. Fucking hell."  
  
"Do you even think it's worth it? Going after them? I mean, how much damage are they going to cause?"  
  
"That ain't the point. That fucking asset's a killin' machine, and that doctor's done nothin' but trouble for Hydra."  
  
Charlie raised an eyebrow at the mention of her, and peeked around the tree, trying to get a visual. They were close to the road which led from the clearing of the forest and across the outskirts of town. Her visibility was severely impaired due to the fast falling snow, but past the haze she could just make out two men leaning lazily against their car, talking.   
  
Being careful not to be seen, Charlie weaved her way through thick trees so she was a little closer to the men, and could hear them better.   
  
"- Like Rumlow used to say, if you could have gotten a piece of that ass..." The first man broke off with a low whistle, and hidden behind her tree, Charlie couldn't help but shudder. "You were the luckiest bastard on the base."  
  
"Did he ever sleep with her?"  
  
"Rumlow?" There was a pause, while Charlie stood frozen, disgusted, listening with morbid fascination. "There were rumours. Rumours he never confirmed. But he never denied 'em either, you know what I'm saying? But Christ almighty. I saw her a few times. And damn... If she weren't a traitor I'd have had her."  
  
"Good looking?"  
  
"Not the point. And hell, if McClean and Brown ain't done their job and she's still alive in that cabin then maybe I'll still get the chance. Maybe you will too. I'll be more than willing to share."  
  
There was a long pause, while Charlie felt more and more sick, hidden in her shadow. "Show me the picture again."  
  
Another shorter pause, and then the younger voice agreed. "If she's still alive I'll take a piece of that."  
  
"That's if she's even capable any more. She's been out here with him for how long now? Surprised he don't have her tied down to the bed day an' night."  
  
"Still needs someone to feed him, presumably." The younger man chipped in vehemently.   
  
Charlie raised her rifle, looking through the scope. She had a clear shot of the younger man. He was leaning casually against the hood of the car, looking appreciatively at a piece of paper that presumably had her photo on. She paused for a second, steadied her aim, and squeezed the trigger.  
  
James had taken her hunting in the woods during the past three months. After she'd been semi recovered he'd allowed her to carry a light rifle and shoot at birds to better her aim. It seemed the training had been working. She hit him square in the chest. He jolted backwards with the force of the bullet, and then dropped. She rolled back behind her tree as his superior began firing blindly into the tree line.  Bullets ricocheted off nearby trees, hitting everything and anything but their intended target.  
  
Finally, the shooting stopped and Charlie assumed he was pausing to reload. She raised her gun and stepped out from behind the tree, preparing to fire when she stepped  _into_  him.   
  
"Hey sweetheart." He hissed, his voice low and gravelly. "Now what are you doin' out here on your own? Girl like you is gonna get hurt."  
  
Charlie reacted with the first thing that came to mind. She dropped the barrel of her rifle into her left hand so she was gripping each end and then slammed it as hard as she could into his nose. He screamed in pain, rocking backwards and grabbing something in front of him to steady himself. The only thing in front of him, however, just happened to be Charlie.  
  
The two tumbled down the hillside together, hitting rocks, roots and each other multiple times before landing in the clearing. As soon as her back hit the level ground Charlie scrambled for her rifle, but two strong hands grabbed her legs, dragging her back into the snow. She was rolled over onto her back, and a weight sunk around her middle. Through the gloom and falling snow her attacker loomed overhead, blood pouring freely from his nose and dripping over her clothes, neck and face.   
  
"I've gotta say, I'm surprised." He leered. "I was expecting that asset to come out here and give us a couple. So why are you out here? My boys take him out? He laying out there somewhere bleeding from his head?"  
  
"He's alive, you piece of shit." Charlie spat, struggling underneath him.   
  
"So why'd he send you? He on his last legs? Send you to get cut down in his place so he can buy himself some time?" Her attacker grinned callously. "I ain't complainin'. Couldn't wait to get my hands on you..."  
  
"Sorry to disappoint." Charlie snarled, reaching out with her right hand and dragging her nails down the side of his face, clawing at the skin and simultaneously kneeing him in the groin. With a groan of pain he rolled off of her onto his back, and she took up his position, straddling him. Before he had the chance to regain his bearings she reached down around his middle for the knife she knew would be on his belt, unsheathed it and raised it above her head.   
  
It cut through his combat suit more easily than she'd expected, and sunk through his skin, burying itself deep in his chest. For a few seconds his back arched and his eyes widened, and the last few wheezy breaths of air left his body. Then he slumped back against the snow, and went limp underneath her. With her breath coming out in short, sharp pants, Charlie rolled off him and back onto the ground. 


End file.
